


Shadows of the Past

by Meri



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M, Post-War, pre-HBP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-16
Updated: 2010-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:35:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meri/pseuds/Meri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after the war ended, the Wizarding security firm of Granger, Potter and Weasley is hired to protect Headmaster Severus Snape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I acknowledge that I'm using the characters and world created by J K Rowling without her permission I do this out of love for said characters and world. I am not making any kind of profit from my writing.
> 
>  **Note 1:** Thanks so much to Smara, Jody, Carla C, and Beth H for above and beyond Story beta, and to Marcelle for a stellar edit. Any mistakes after that are my own.
> 
>  **Note 2:** The concept that the sorting hat chooses the Hogwarts Headmaster comes from Resonant's brilliant HP novel, [Transfigurations](http://trickster.org/res/transfig.html), and is used with her permission.

_"La coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait point.  
The heart has its reasons, whereof reason knows nothing."_ \-- Pascal

  
 _EXPLOSION ROCKS HOGWARTS

An explosion early this morning rocked the foundation of Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft, with reverberations felt as far north as Crup's Run. Substantial damage was sustained to the southeast quadrant of the school, directly below the headmaster's office. Debris strewn across the entire campus might have caused serious injury had any of the students been in residence. This reporter saw the words "The Traitor Must Die" on the broken wall, written using an unidentified red substance. No one at Hogwarts was available for comment.  


_  


Harry Potter pushed open the glass doors to the offices of Granger, Potter and Weasley, the wizarding world's premiere security firm, and stepped inside. Even after eight years, he still got a thrill when he saw their names on the door.

The receptionist looked up as he passed her desk. "Good Morning, Mr. Potter."

"Good Morning, Brenda," he said, taking the messages she handed him and giving her a smile.

"Mr. Weasley asked that you stop by his office as soon as you came in," she said in an officious tone.

He detoured towards Ron's office, wondering what was so important that he couldn't get his tea first. He knocked, then opened the door without waiting for a response.

Ron was sitting at his desk with their office manager, Suzette, in his lap, and they were kissing.

As Harry walked in, they both looked up and Suzette smirked as she closed the buttons on Ron's robe.

"You know," Harry said, sitting down in the chair in front of Ron's big desk and leaning back to regard them with mock sternness. "After six years and two kids, you're not supposed to snog like newlyweds anymore. It isn't done."

"You're jealous mate," Ron said lightheartedly, giving Suzette a final kiss before she vacated his lap.

"Very true, but of which one of you am I jealous?" Harry wiggled his eyebrows, pleased that he'd sounded like he was teasing instead of serious. He _was_ envious.

"'e belongs to me, 'arry Potter," Suzette said, in a light French accent. "I would thank you to remember that."

All three of them laughed. Harry put a hand on his heart and sighed dramatically. "Nobody loves me."

"The entire world loves you, Harry," Ron pointed out, screwing up his face. "You know it, too."

"But not as you do," Harry leaned towards Ron, batting his eyes lashes.

Suzette cleared her throat loudly and then giggled. "I shall leave you to your meeting."

"See you later, baby." Ron sent a loving look in her direction.

She turned on Ron and scowled at him. "'ow is it that I am baby? I am older than you!"

"I think it's because you are shorter," Harry laughed.

With a more ferocious scowl on her face, she drew herself up to her full height, which probably wasn't more than five foot four, and said haughtily, "You are nearly as short as I, why does 'e not call you such?"

"I value my life?" Ron said and blew her a kiss. "Go on, sweetheart."

She huffed and left the office.

"Just because you're oversized doesn't mean the rest of us should be." They both laughed again; the truth was that Harry never minded being short.

After another moment, though, he felt his mirth fade. He'd always wanted to find what Ron had: a person he could love to distraction and still joke and laugh and tease with. With an exasperated sigh, he focused back on Ron. "You wanted to see me? I haven't had my tea yet; this better be good," he said with more-than-mock annoyance.

"What's wrong?" Ron had that concerned look on his face that he used to get at school when Harry felt bad.

Harry looked up at him and forced a smile that he knew wouldn't fool Ron for a second. "I'm just tired. I need to do the final paper work on the Jennings and Faraway cases that we wrapped last week. So, what did you want to see me about?"

"Hermione will be here in a second. Let's wait for her, okay?" As he said it, the door opened and Hermione rushed in, her robes flying behind her.

"Sorry. Cassie wouldn't get out of bed and get dressed. Neither of us could convince her that she really did want to go to school today." She looked at Ron and they grinned at each other in sympathy.

"What did you want, Ron," Hermione asked, settling into the seat next to Harry. "I have an appointment at 10:00 and a firecall at 11:30."

"The Board of Governors of Hogwarts contacted me this morning. They want to hire us to protect the Headmaster." Ron glanced first at him and then at Hermione, his expression cautious. "Normally, that would be Harry's purview, but I think maybe we should discuss it before deciding."

"I agree it needs discussion," Harry said. If there was any question about taking a case, they would all have to agree. "Given what the Headmaster probably thinks of us, I'm surprised he agreed to use us at all."

"Actually, it was the Board of Governors that contacted me. Snape may not know about it."

"Yet," Hermione said.

"That could make things all the worse. Beyond that, I have some fairly ambivalent feelings in regard to the new Headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Not so new. He's been there for two years." Hermione gave him a pointed look.

"Considering how long Dumbledore was there before him, he'll be new for a long time to come." Harry felt a pang of sorrow every time he thought of Dumbledore. He missed the conniving old wizard.

"Ambivalent?" Ron snorted, bringing attention back to the matter at hand. "That's an interesting way to put it, isn't it?"

"Better than saying you still hate his guts, however many years later." Hermione folded her arms over her chest and gave them both an admonishing look. "Like you did when you were fifteen."

Ron smirked at Harry, humor in his eyes. "More likely that was me. You, on the other hand, didn't."

"You know, I never understood where you got that idea from. I mean, yes, I spent a lot of time with him while he was training me, especially seventh year, but it's not like I was dating him or something." Harry shuddered at the very idea.

"You have to admit that you talked about him all the time." Hermione's expression was as amused as Ron's was and it annoyed Harry no end.

"Don't you know when to lay off?" Harry said, biting back his embarrassment. Despite how much he might have talked about Snape, it was not for _those_ reasons.

"She's right and you know it."

"I talked about him because I spent most of my free time with him. I saw more of him than I did of anyone else. Do I need to remind you that it wasn't for fun, either." He glared at both of them.

"Still..." Ron trailed off when Harry scowled at him.

"Still, nothing. I respected him. That's it. And I'll have no problem working with him. I suspect the Headmaster is going to be much more difficult to convince."

Hermione's amusement faded, replaced by obvious concern. "True. Practically speaking, how difficult will it be if he is not going to cooperate?"

"That's the thing, though; they came to us." Ron glanced down at his desk, toying with his quill. "I think they're worried about Snape's safety."

"It's the board, not him. We must consider that he may not want us to protect him." Harry didn't even want to think about that conversation.

"That would be just like him, wouldn't it? Cut off his huge nose to spite his face." Ron sniggered.

"Ron, sometimes you still remind me of that fifteen year old boy." Hermione cushioned her words with a chuckle.

"I know. I should grow up, shouldn't I?" Ron didn't look at all chastened. In fact, Harry was sure Ron was inured to Hermione's chastising by now.

Hermione shook her head, smiling back at him. "Harry? What do you think we should do?"

"We could always send in Hanson and Davis as supervisors if he's unhappy with us. It can't hurt to talk to the board. This will be ahigh profile assignment and that can only do us good."

"It's not as if we need more clients. I have enough work to do," Hermione said.

"We always need to be thinking of the future. Let's set up a meeting with them and lay everything out." Unlike Hermione, Ron never took their continued success for granted.

Harry nodded. "Let's do it at Hogwarts rather than here. It will give the Headmaster home ground. And it will be nice to visit again. We haven't been back since Dumbledore's funeral. A full deployment of agents, I'm thinking."

Both Ron and Hermione nodded.

* * *

"We've hired the firm of Granger, Potter and Weasley to protect you," Madame Francine Henley, chair of the Hogwarts Board of Governors announced after she brought the monthly meeting to order.

Severus Snape looked up, aggravated to start with as this wasn't how he wished to spend his first free morning in ten months. Her presumption only served to annoy him further. "Without asking me what I thought of it? That's a new low even for you, Madam Henley."

Henley glared at him with a combination of exasperation and thinly veiled dislike on her face. "We're trying to save your life, Headmaster."

"I understand that," Snape said, disgusted. His distaste for the witch was as intense as her own for him. "While I'm sure you mean well," he paused so that she knew he was not fooled for one moment into thinking that, "I'm also certain there are better ways to handle my security."

"The Dementors of Azkaban are no longer available. We were forced to choose humans." Henley smirked nastily and the rest of the board cringed.

Snape swallowed back the acid rising from his stomach. Her audacity never ceased to amaze him. "Yes, but those particular humans? Really, don't you think you could have chosen someone, anyone, better qualified?"

He knew Henley disliked having her authority called into question, which is precisely why he did it. She straightened her shoulders, clearly ready to do battle. "They are the best the wizarding world has to offer."

"I'm sure you're mistaken." He could not conceive of a world where the Gryffindor Trio -- as he'd thought of them for years -- were the best there was.

"They will be here in a short while to go over the plans for your security. If you prefer to have someone else after you've heard them--"

"-- I'm certain that I will." Snape didn't even have to think about that.

"I'll consider it. Right now, we'll hear what they have to say."

Snape grimaced just thinking about it. Seeing those three would do his mood no good whatsoever. Except for the most minimal of contact, he'd managed to avoid them for years.

Ten minutes later, the doors to the Great Hall opened. Snape looked up as _they_ sauntered in, flanked by no less than six of their minions. Much to his disgust, they looked every inch the top-flight security professionals they were rumored to be.

As they walked across the Hall, Snape studied them. Granger hadn't changed very much, a bit taller, just as thin. Her bushy hair had been mostly tamed into a chignon at the nape of her neck. A few wild strands fluttered around her face, giving her a slightly disheveled look.

Weasley still had the most obnoxiously colored hair Snape had ever seen and now it was as long as his eldest bother's. Taller, broader than he'd been in school, Weasley moved with a grace uncommon in one so large.

Putting them out of his mind, Snape turned his attention to Potter. Bloody hell. When had the skinny, awkward teenager become such a good looking man? And why hadn't he noticed until this moment? Snape dismissed the quivering in his stomach as the sausages he'd had for breakfast.

Absently, he pushed his hair back, away from his face. As headmaster, he'd allowed it to grow out and it fell to the middle of his back. Like Albus before him, he wore it loose. Unlike Albus, he refused to grow a beard. He also refused to wear ridiculously colored robes. Black suited him just fine.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? If it isn't the Gryffindor Trio, back in triumph," Snape said in his best scornful tone.

He'd hoped for outrage, or at least a bit of bluster from Weasley, but alas, not a one of them batted so much as an eyelash. Potter stopped in front of the table and inclined his head. "It's good to see you again, sir."

"Yes. Lovely," he said without any hint that it might be.

"I'm sure you remember Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger-Smythe." Potter nodded to his two companions.

"I'm not likely to have forgot any of you." More's the pity, Snape thought. He would have liked to have, but they kept turning up, like bad coins. He recalled the last time had been a couple of years ago, at.... Had it been two years since Dumbledore had passed on? Snape sighed. He'd never stopped missing the manipulating old bastard.

Potter inclined his head again. "Good. Why don't we get down to business, then?" He signaled his staff and they took their seats. Potter, Granger, and Weasley remained standing.

Snape inclined his head, too and then pointed a finger at the people on either side of him. "These are the representatives of the Board of Governors for Hogwarts. Madam Francine Henley, Mister Baran Fientuch, Mister Jerolin Magna. _They_ wanted to hire you. I think the entire thing is a waste of both my time and the Board's galleons."

"Now, Headmaster," Henley said, her tone silky and condescending. "As I told you earlier, we're attempting to save your life. You might try and be grateful."

"I'm quite well aware that the only reason you're doing this at all is so that if something should happen, you can say you did everything in your power to make sure I didn't die so tragically."

Her face turned bright red. "I resent that. You may not have been my first choice for Headmaster--"

Disgusted, he pointedly turned his attention back to Potter and his people, dismissing them. "Please continue, Mr. Potter."

"All right, let's start with the facts." Potter looked over at Granger, signaling to her to begin the presentation.

Even before she started, Snape could tell from her expression that her know-it-all attitude hadn't changed.

"Over the course of the last several months the Headmaster has received several threatening notes," Granger said, as if she were giving a lecture.

"Has he? This is news to me." Looking outraged, Henley put both hands on the table as if she meant to rise.

Snape stared at her. Wisely, Henley thought better of getting up.

Tilting her head in thanks, Granger went on, "He has, in fact, reported them to the MLE. They have, to the best of their ability," her tone said she didn't think much of their ability, "investigated the incidents. Two days ago, an explosion destroyed part of the Headmaster's office. A slogan was scrawled across the wall."

"We all know that," Henley snapped.

Smiling cloyingly at her, Granger tucked a stray lock of her hair back behind her ear. "The explosion was caused by C4 explosives -- US Air Force issued -- with an automatic timer. It could have been set anytime within a day of the explosion. Also," she paused to catch his eye. "The blood, that of a bovine, was not magically painted, it was done by hand. As a matter of fact, there was nothing magical about the incident at all."

An unpleasant feeling settled into Snape's gut. He had no idea why a Muggle would want to kill him. Any number of wizards, yes, but a Muggle?

"So," Potter picked up the thread. "It will not only take a magical team to investigate, but someone who knows Muggle methods as well."

Pulling a large parchment from his leather portfolio, Weasley set it on the table. "We've worked out a security plan for the school."

Before he could flatten the parchment on the table, Snape cut him off. "As much as I understand the need for security, I will not allow you to run my life. I have quite a number of plans for my break, and none of them include staying here."

Undaunted, Weasley pulled out a second sheet. "I understand that, sir. This is Snape Manor--"

"Where did you get that?" Snape asked sharply, outraged that they had invaded his privacy without so much as a by your leave.

"It's a matter of public Ministry records, sir. It's readily available," Granger said. At his glare, she inclined her head. "Well, perhaps, not to just anyone. For those who have a reason or need to know, they are accessible."

He supposed they could make a case for needing to know.

Weasley cleared his throat and pointed to the plans. "We will deploy our people around the grounds here and here." His thick finger ran over Snape Manor's lawns without looking at where he was going.

What a heavy-handed dolt Weasley was! Snape wanted to shout at him, but managed to keep his voice, if not calm, then to a reasonable level. "I will not have those dunderheads tramping through my gardens."

"You'll do what's required," Henley said, her voice overriding his.

He stared her down angrily; a look that usually sent the recipient running in fear for their lives. Henley blanched quite satisfyingly.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Snape saw another small smile touch Potter's lips. It was gone in an instant, but it was enough to amuse Snape as well. "I'd rather not have your people traipsing all over my house and grounds."

"Do you want this person, whomever it is, to kill you, sir?" Potter asked even more reasonably.

"Don't be a fool, of course not," Snape growled through his teeth. The last thing he would tolerate was being lectured to by Harry Potter. "However--"

"We are prepared to ensure that will not happen. And with as little disruption to your life as possible."

Did Potter have to be so damned adult and sensible? The fight went out of Snape, but he kept his head held high. "I don't want the intrusion. I don't want to be tripping over your people."

"As little as possible. I promise you that." Potter's expression said he wanted nothing more than to make Snape safe in his own home.

Snape gave him a sour look, but said nothing.

"We'll deploy six agents on site, round the clock. For the first few days, either Harry or I will be on the premises to supervise," Weasley said, in that same earnest tone they were all using.

"What about after that?" Snape wasn't sure he liked the idea of either of them about all the time, but the idea of strangers in his home he liked even less.

Weasley looked up at that, clearly not expecting an argument. "We have several supervisors who...."

"No." Snape glared, daring them to challenge him. The other agents looked younger, and were probably even less experienced than the three of them.

Potter and Weasley exchanged a look that said clearly that they would placate him for now. That annoyed Snape, too.

"We'll stay on site and see how it goes," Potter said.

"All right, I am agreeable to that." Snape felt like he was conceding too much, but he'd feel better knowing the both of them were around making sure things ran smoothly and keeping their people out of his way.

Weasley took over and outlined the complete security set-up that would use both Muggle and Wizard technologies. While he would never admit it to them, Snape was impressed by the thoroughness of Weasley's plans and the attention to detail they'd put into them.

"I'll need a list of everyone at Hogwarts: staff, teachers, and anyone else who does anything at the school. We will run checks on them to see if there is anything in their backgrounds that is suspicious," Granger said, when Weasley was done.

To Snape, she sounded as if she were explaining it to a none-too-bright first-year and he was having none of that and especially not from her. "The Muggle world may work that way, Miss Granger, but the wizarding world does not," Snape said as scathingly. "We know each other. We know where we come from and who we are."

"Yes, sir. That's very true. However, it is possible that something was missed along the way. We simply want to make sure that all avenues have been investigated. We want to ensure your safety." Granger sounded both logical and practical that if he disagreed he knew he'd look asinine.

"I shall see a list is made available to you," Snape said, torn between appreciating her net and annoyed at being caught in it.

"Thank you, sir." Granger looked down at the piece of paper in her hands and clearly had more to say.

However, the bother of all of this was starting to grate on Snape's already taut nerves. He wove a little fantasy about hexing them all into perdition, and spent a few pleasant moments on which hex to use to end his suffering. Unfortunately, it was long past the day when he would do more than fantasize. "I think we're done here."

"I'd like to speak to you about the people in your past. Specifically, anyone who might have reason to wish to kill you," Granger said, as if he hadn't just called the meeting to an end.

"Not now. If there is nothing else, I think this meeting is over." He wished it had ended half an hour before his head started to ache.

"Actually, sir," Weasley said, his tone deferential, "we shall need an itinerary of your appointments and where you'll be for the next several weeks."

In complete disbelief, and totally appalled, he took a breath before he could speak. "No."

Potter looked up at him, surprise written on his face. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said no. I will not report to you. Quite the opposite in fact."

"We must see that someone is with you at all times," Weasley said as if he were actually being placating.

"I doubt that will be necessary. I can take care of myself. I've done so for a number of years, now."

"Why don't you let us be the judge of that? It's what you're paying us for," Potter said accommodatingly.

He focused on Potter and scowled. "Come along, then, if you must." Moving around the table, Snape went towards the side exit to the hall.

"Eight hours," Potter said as he shot a quick look to both Granger and Weasley, then hurried to catch up with him before he actually made it out of the hall.

* * *

All right, Harry thought, as Snape walked away, he could deal with a temperamental Headmaster, if he had to. It wouldn't be so bad. He snorted. Who did he think he was kidding? This was going to be hell on Earth and he bloody well knew it. From the twin looks of sympathy on Hermione's and Ron's faces, they knew it too.

"Headmaster," he called out, jogging to catch up with Snape. He had to put a hand on Snape's arm to stop him. "Wait a moment."

Snape stopped and looked right at Harry. "I have no time for this. I've too much to do to be bothered with you. What did you want?"

"To protect you. Nothing more than that." Harry looked at him, trying to convey his sincerity.

The effort seemed lost on Snape. "You'll do this whether I need it or not?"

He glanced up at Snape, meeting his eyes. "I'll do it whether you want it or not. Yes."

"You're going to make this as difficult as possible, aren't you?" Snape didn't seem angry as much as resigned to accept the inevitable, however gracelessly.

The change in his attitude startled Harry. He'd expected more of a fight. "I'm here to help make sure you stay alive long enough to make things difficult for all the Hogwarts children for many, many years to come."

"Not that many, thank you very much. It will only be for the next ten or twelve years." Without waiting for a reply, Snape started down the corridor.

Harry stood there, shocked again. "You don't plan to stay on?"

"The only way I would agree to do it at all was with a time limit. I didn't particularly want the job."

Despite the words of denial, Harry could hear the prevarication in them. Harry knew that Snape did want the job. "I'm surprised you agreed, then."

"The blasted hat gave me no choice on that. I asked it not to do it, but it wouldn't listen. Kept going on about changing the way things were done and healing the breaches of the past." There was a definite whine in his tone and he sounded aggravated about it. Snape stalked down the corridor.

Harry's shorter legs made it difficult to keep up with Snape's ground-eating stride. "Where are we going?" he asked, stopping Snape again.

Snape blinked, seemingly surprised that Harry would ask. "I must sort through my things and pack. I don't require protection while I do it."

"Did you lose much?" He followed as Snape as he set off at a brisk, but slightly slower pace this time.

At the gargoyle, Snape sneered at it, and it opened up without a word, cringing a bit on its perch. "Enough. Mostly books and scrolls that were in the office proper. Thankfully, the explosion missed my lab completely."

"No password?" Harry glanced at the gargoyle as he went past it, thinking of all the times as a student when the blasted thing had stymied him. "I didn't realize the headmaster's quarters had a lab attached."

"Foolish boy. The castle accommodates itself to the needs of the headmaster. As for the password, anyone who wants to talk to me badly enough to bother me had better have a very good reason. I guarantee a child, or teacher for that matter, does not make the mistake more than once."

"You don't think that's a security breach?" Harry shook his head, disbelievingly.

"Only those at Hogwarts can get through at all. Students, teachers, staff." Snape didn't seem concerned about it. He looked at Harry and scowled. "I suppose I'll have to key it to you as well."

Astonished by his cavalier attitude, Harry could not believe that Snape would not be more concerned about his security. Where had the paranoid professor he remembered gone to? "You do know that it could be someone here that's trying to kill you?"

"Really, Potter. I doubt that anyone here would go to that much trouble. It would be much easier to curse me without all this melodrama." Snape gave him an aggravated look and then stepped on the stairs.

Harry followed, and the stairs moved up, stopping when they stepped off. The outside wall had been replaced magically, but the rest of the room was mostly bare. According to the MLE report, the desk and many of the books and scrolls were burned beyond hope of resurrection and had been discarded.

"I'm glad to see all the portraits survived." Harry smiled at Dumbledore, who waved to him.

"They were magically painted and cannot be burned by fire. It would take very complex and powerful magic to destroy a portrait," Snape said pointedly, as if it were something Harry should have known already.

Harry's first inclination was to answer with something scathing, but he reminded himself that he had to be polite to the client and bit down on the remark.

"Are you here to protect, Severus, my boy?" Dumbledore asked, looking a good deal more pleased by the idea than Snape did.

Snape grunted and folded his arms over his chest.

"Yes, sir. I know someone from the ministry probably asked, but did you see anything? Any of you?" Harry looked at each portrait as he asked. Half of them were snoring in their frames.

"Nothing at all, I'm sorry to say," Dumbledore said, stroking along his beard and looking thoughtful. "I can't even tell you why we didn't see anything."

Harry found that odd, and disturbing. "When the person came in to plant the device, you should have seen them."

"We saw nothing," one of the other headmasters said, sounding like he thought he was being accused of something. "There was nothing to see."

"I wonder if there was some kind of magical screen or something?" Harry couldn't quite credit it. But he supposed that it was possible.

"I hadn't considered that," Snape said, thoughtfully.

"Wouldn't we have seen the screen?" Dumbledore seemed to consider that for a moment. "Of course, we're just replicas and don't have the senses of the living."

"So you wouldn't sense something if you didn't see it? Harry asked. He'd always wondered just what the portraits could perceive of the living world. It had seemed rude to ask. Thinking of the living, something else occurred to Harry. "Fawkes?"

Before Snape could say anything, the phoenix came through the door from his quarters. Delighted, Harry held out his arm for him to land on.

"I'm glad to see you're okay, too." Relieved, Harry scratched the breast feathers and smiled broadly.

"He alerted me to the danger and made me leave the room." Something in Snape's tone said he almost hadn't heeded the bird. "Bring him through."

The blast had been contained mostly in the outer office, and Harry had to wonder if that were by design or just luck. The MLE investigation had turned up little in the way of evidence since most of it had been incinerated in the blast.

"Give me a couple of minutes in here," Harry said.

Snape stepped back into the charred office. "Why? The inspectors have all been through here already."

"I know that. I've read their reports. But I sense something else. I'm going to call Ron and have him come up." He dug his mobile out of his pocket.

"You can't use Muggle technology here." Snape looked smug, as if circumventing Harry gave him pleasure.

Which now that Harry thought about it, he was sure that it did. But not this time. "It's magically enhanced to work wherever we are."

"I see." Snape disappeared through the doorway and Fawkes left Harry's arm, flying after him.

"What do you sense?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'm not sure yet." Harry pressed two buttons on the mobile.

"Weasley," Ron said a second later.

"Ron, agents all deployed?" Harry asked by way of an introduction.

"'Course. Got one at the entrance. Two more walking the grounds. And one at the Gargoyle. What did you need?"

"I'm in the Headmaster's office. I want you to look at something."

"Sure. Do you need Hermione up there as well?"

Harry considered it. "Yes. I think so."

Within a few minutes, the three of them were standing in the ruin of Snape's office. "What are we supposed to find?" Hermione asked, looking at the magical wall.

"I'm not sure. But I sense a magical residue of some kind where the words were scrawled." Harry pointed to the spot on the opposite wall where the blood had been cleaned away.

Ron stepped closer, his brow creased in concentration. "I don't feel anything. Hermione?"

She shook her head. "No. But Harry's much more powerful than either of us, and more likely to sense something."

"The MLE report said there was no sign that magic was involved." Ron peered at the wall, as if he could see something else there.

"I know," Harry said, trying to trace the faint impression, but it dissipated before it went anywhere. "But that could mean that whoever wrote the report wasn't as sensitive as I am. It was Kingsley, wasn't it?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. And he's very good."

More than once, they had tried to lure him away from the MLE to work with them. So far he'd resisted.

"Did you find something?" Snape asked, looming in the doorway.

"We're not sure yet." Harry told him about the magical residue.

"I suppose it could be anything." Snape looked thoughtful for a moment and then shook his head. "There is nothing to be done about it now. I am going to finish packing."

"I'll be done here in a minute."

Snape turned around and walked away without another word.

"Do you get the feeling this is going to be a great deal of fun?" Ron forced a laugh.

Hermione gave both of them a stern look, reminiscent of their school days. "Remember, he's the client."

Harry groaned and nodded, as if he were likely to forget it. "Yes ma'am."

"Seriously, Harry. You --"

"I know. Okay. I know." And he didn't need Hermione to remind him.

"Sorry." She touched his shoulder. "I know this is going to be...."

"Yeah. You both better get out of here. Ron meet me back here in, say eight hours. We'll work the schedule out then."

"Right." Both Ron and Hermione headed for the door and Harry went to find Snape and start the process.

"Would you like some help with anything?" Harry asked, standing in the doorway between the office and the sitting room. "We should discuss your schedule for the next few weeks."

"No. I require nothing. I do not wish to discuss my schedule with you or anyone else."

"If I don't know where you're going ahead of time, I shall be forced to follow you around like a puppy. You'd like that, wouldn't you, sir? Harry Potter at your heels." Harry made it sound like he might enjoy it, but the idea appalled him.

A visible shudder of horror ran through Snape. He pulled out his wand and muttered, "Balanus-liber." A black book appeared in the air and dropped into his hand. Opening it, he gave a quick glance to the contents.

"Amuse yourself, boy." Snape shoved the book into his hands and stalked off towards another room that Harry presumed was his bedroom.

Trying to stifle his irritation, and wondering why everything with Snape had to be so damned hard, Harry glanced through the appointment book. Everything seemed to be in order, except there was a notation that Marcus was going to arrive in two weeks. It was underlined.

Who the hell was Marcus?

With a sigh, Harry steeled himself to go and find out.

He followed Snape into the bedroom. And surprisingly it was nicely decorated in light greens and browns. Nothing at all like what he'd imagined Snape would be partial to. Of course, when he'd been in school, he'd assumed that Snape lived in some kind of gothic nightmare, compete with a coffin for a bed.

With a shake of his head, he dismissed the fanciful notion and focused back on Snape in the present.

"You know," Harry said conversationally, nodding toward the colorful pile of clothes on Snape's bed. "I didn't think you owned anything other than black or white. I know I've never seen you in anything that color."

Snape's expression turned icy. "Did you have anything useful you wanted to say, or did you simply wish to insult my taste in clothing?"

"Actually," Harry said, swallowing back his mortification and holding up the book, "I wanted to know who Marcus was."

"What possible business is it of yours?"

"Well, let me think." Harry made a show of scratching his head. "Oh, I know. It might be that I'm protecting you, and this Marcus is coming to visit you for a week."

"Marcus is not a threat, if that's what you're thinking. He's an American. A potions master."

"What's his surname and where in the States is he from?" Anyone in Snape's life could be the threat and Harry found it hard to believe Snape wasn't suspicious at all. That wasn't at all like the Snape he knew.

Snape surprised him by answering the question without further argument. "Marcus Bennett. New York Wizarding Institute."

Now that was a surprise. Harry let out a long slow whistle. "You have some very highly placed friends. He's one of the top potions masters in the world."

"I know he is. What surprises me is that you know who he is. How is that?"

Harry chuckled. "I'm not dead? Good grief, Headmaster, he's got better name recognition than you do." He wondered just how good friends they were, but dismissed the thought. It was none of his business. "Why is he coming to visit you?"

Several different emotions crossed Snape's face, all gone in a second, leaving the remains of an affectionate look. "He is a dear friend of mine."

The look on Snape's face shocked Harry enough to ask, "How did you meet him?"

Snape seemed focused inward and a ghost of a smile strayed across his lips before he looked back at Harry. "He taught potions at Hogwarts for two years when I was a student."

Something about the way he said it startled Harry. Perhaps it was only the affection in his voice. "When was that?"

Snape gave him a questioning look, as if he wondered why Harry was interested. "My third and fourth year."

As much as it might gall him to admit it, he was curious about Snape. "You've kept in touch with him for all this time?"

"So it would seem, wouldn't it? Go away," he ordered, once again sounding irritated.

Harry left him to his packing.

* * *

Part 2

It took another two and a half days before Snape was safely ensconced in Snape Manor and their agents were properly deployed around the grounds. After the first day, Harry and Ron traded off twelve hour shifts. Snape was his usual difficult self and would allow no one else to supervise.

Harry sighed and sank into the comfortable leather sofa in manor's main sitting room, which also served as a library. "This room is huge." The dimensions finally clicked. "It was a ballroom, wasn't it?"

The acoustics of the room were perfect and Harry suspected, enhanced. He didn't have to raise his voice to speak to Snape, who stood on the second level looking at some book or other. "My many times great-grandfather decided books were more important than parties."

"I can see you agree with him." Impressed despite himself, Harry glanced around at the two stories of floor to ceiling book cases. "I don't think Hogwarts' library can rival this."

"I expect not." Snape's pride in the collection was obvious.

"Did you visit here often as a kid?" Given what he remembered from the Occlumency lessons in fifth and sixth year, he knew Snape probably hadn't lived here.

"I visited here twice when I was a child."

"I didn't realize...."

Snape looked away, no doubt trying to hide what he was feeling. It came through in his flat tone anyway. "My father was out of favor with my grandfather -- something about marrying a half-blood witch."

"So, he was banished from the manor?"

"My father was too proud to do what his father wanted. Of course, he came to resent both my mother and myself. Poverty will do that." Snape sounded much like he had in Harry's school days.

"You resented being poor, didn't you?" It was clear he hadn't had it any easier than Harry had and Harry empathized whether he cared to or not.

Snape took a breath. "I...I did resent it. I felt I was denied something that should have been mine by right."

"You still ended up with everything." Harry gestured towards the room, which was more than he could say. The only redress he'd got with the Dursleys was a few choice words and the satisfaction of walking out and never having to return.

"Only because the lands and house are entailed. There was nothing my grandfather could do about it. The old man died right after the war. Since my father was long dead, everything came to me."

"So you're quite rich, now."

"I still grew up poor. Going to a school where being poor meant that I would never measure up."

Harry supposed he had a right to some antipathy. "Is that how you ended up joining --" Harry stopped, appalled at what he'd almost asked. "Forgive me."

Several different emotions crossed Snape's face, but he didn't hex Harry, nor did he walk away. Indeed, he seemed stunned into silence by the question. It lasted only a moment. "It's part of it, to be sure."

Harry was afraid to breathe. He could not believe that Snape was volunteering any information. "It wasn't one thing, then?"

"No. It was a combination of many, many things. I was very unsatisfied with my life at that time. I thought the Dark Lord might help me to become more satisfied. He did not."

There was some part of Harry that felt desperately sorry for Snape. Harry had had Ron and Hermione's friendship since he'd been eleven and that had made up for a lot of what went before. "Are you more satisfied now?"

"Now, yes. Now, I have everything I've ever wanted. It's almost too much, really. However, I can't get back what I didn't have before."

More curious than he had any right to be, Harry waited a beat or two to see if Snape would go on. He didn't. Snape stood with his back stiff and his jaw clenched fighting some internal battle that Harry knew he couldn't conceive of, let alone help with.

A wave of compassion went through Harry. "I'm sorry."

Snape gave him an odd look, and shook his head as if to clear it. "I plan to go to Knockturn Alley tomorrow."

Okay, Harry thought with his sympathy disappearing and his irritation rising, let's move on. "Didn't you think you should have mentioned that before now?"

"I'm mentioning it now; that should be sufficient. I could simply have told you tomorrow as I left."

Well, Harry supposed, he should be grateful for all favors, no matter how small. "Why don't you make a list of the supplies you need and I'll send someone to fetch them for you?"

"You're joking?" Snape actually laughed at that and made a point of looking at him as if he were an idiot. "Oh, I can see you're not. You're just a fool."

The man never changed, did he? "Why not?" Harry asked, once again swallowing his frustration and reminding himself that Snape was the client. He could be as difficult as he wished and Harry had to put up with it.

"Because whomever you send will no doubt be robbed blind. They will return having spent too many of my galleons for inferior ingredients."

Reluctantly, Harry stood and moved over to the stairs. Snape was going to drive him barmy. "I'll do it," Harry said through his clenched teeth.

"What makes you think you'll do any better than your idiot minions?" Moving down to the last stair, Snape towered over Harry.

Even knowing Snape had the advantage, Harry didn't step back. He smiled wanly, and hiding his displeasure with practiced ease. "People generally think twice before trying to swindle me. Besides, I'm intelligent enough to use your name. Or I can send Hermione."

"I wish to go out tomorrow. I've told you before that I will not be held prisoner in my own home." With that, Snape swept back up the stairs as if the matter had been decided.

Harry ground his teeth. He picked up his mobile and punched Ron's numbers.

"Weasley," Ron answered on the first ring.

"It's me." Harry sounded put upon, even to himself. He wondered if Snape got some kind of perverse pleasure out of making things so bloody difficult for them. Or perhaps he simply didn't value his own life.

"What did he do now?" Ron's own exasperation came through the phone so clearly that if the situation were any less dire, Harry would have laughed.

"He wants to visit Knockturn Alley tomorrow for some potions supplies."

"He couldn't have told us this yesterday?" Ron sighed, sounding rather like Harry felt. "He won't let us pick them up for him, either?"

Even though Ron couldn't see him, Harry shook his head. "We're all too incompetent, including Hermione."

Ron's next sigh was even louder than the first and seemingly twice as resigned. "All right. I'll set it up. How many besides you and me? Four? Six?"

Harry thought about it, putting away his annoyance in favor of doing his job. "Four, at least. It will probably be very crowded."

"I'm sure it will be. I'll take care of it." Ron fell silent, probably already working out the details in his mind.

"Thanks." Frustrated by Snape and the whole case, Harry closed his eyes and willed himself not to be annoyed. "I'm taking a month off when this is over. I swear I am."

Ron laughed at that. "We'll flip a coin to see who goes first."

"Okay." Harry closed the phone and let himself indulge in a fantasy of a month away. On a beach somewhere, warm and sunny. Alone, he reminded himself and sighed. It was never as much fun that way. Maybe he'd let Ron and Suzette go and babysit the kids.

"See, that wasn't so difficult to arrange after all." Snape's sarcastic tone cut through Harry's reverie.

He looked up, startled to see Snape standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Not that it would matter to you, would it? You excel at making things difficult."

Snape's chest puffed out a bit and he looked pleased with the complaint. "You are here for my convenience, not the other way around."

"We're here to protect you and if you don't listen to us, you'll make it all the harder. And it's past time for you to accept another team of supervisors."

"Why?" Could Snape sound any more sullen?

Harry understood Snape was afraid and that usually brought out the worst in anyone, but the stress of dealing with a difficult Snape was getting to both him and Ron. "Because Ron and I can't keep doing twelve hour shifts. It's okay for a week, but more than that and our efficiency is diminished by exhaustion."

"It's only been three days. Are you so soft that you can't handle the job requirements?" Snape tone was annoyed, as if their need for rest were an affront to him.

"Even with pepper-up potions, we will not be at our best. When your protection is exhausted, they miss things. And people can die." It had never happened to them, but their usual clients didn't insist on two people covering all shifts. "Look, you've met Hanson and Davis. They are very good at what they do. I want you to consider them."

"I thought this is your firm's specialty." The sneer on Snape's face was reminiscent of Harry's school days.

He appreciated it now about as much as he did then, which was to say, not at all. However, he was being paid for his professional expertise and that meant he had to act the part, no matter how annoying the client was. "It is rare that we do this kind of protection at all. We mostly install wizarding security systems, set wards for people and handle the types of investigations that the MLE does not do."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Do you have _any_ experience at protection?"

"Of course we do. But this kind of long-term protection is rare. We usually do a couple of days for one person. It's usually someone from out of town who is too much for the Ministry or someone under a threat of some kind. This kind of protection," Harry waved his hand around the room, "is very expensive."

"So Madam Henley has informed me more than once," Snape said, his tone thick with dislike of the woman. And, no doubt, the situation as well. "You could be at this for months."

The very thought made Harry shudder. "No. If the situation isn't resolved, we'll continue until you return to Hogwarts. After that, we'll have to have a couple of people protecting you. Now, we must have contingencies for all scenarios, which is why tomorrow will be so difficult."

"As I've said, I won't be held prisoner in my own home."

"I understand, Headmaster. And you must understand that we need to bring in other people for this assignment."

"All right. If I must, I will suffer Ms --"

"Not Hermione either. She isn't Auror trained."

Snape looked at him as if he were mad. "Then why does she work for you?"

It annoyed Harry that Snape would make such a stupid assumption. "As I think you know, she doesn't work for me, nor does Ron. Just like the name says, she owns a third of the firm, along with Ron and me. She went to university when Ron and I started Auror training."

"I did realize it, but you seem to be the one in charge of everything."

"I'm the field supervisor, but I'm not in charge of the firm, nor the decisions we make. We all work together."

"Why did you and Weasley leave the Aurors?" Snape asked, sounding genuinely curious. "From what I'm told, you had great potential."

Although he would never admit it, there was some small part of him that was pleased that Snape knew something about his career as an Auror. "As you've said more than once, I'm not good at following the rules, especially rules that make no sense to me. I would likely have been sacked sooner or later. After a particularly nasty case, about two years into it, Ron and I both decided we'd do better on our own."

"Were they actually going to dismiss you?" Snape seemed to find the possibility very amusing.

"No. We both received commendations, but our supervisor was furious with how we handled things. We quit while we were ahead."

"And Mrs. Granger-Smythe?"

"She had finished University with top honors and couldn't find a job that suited her. She had been frustrated enough that she was willing to throw her lot in with us." Harry fondly remembered the weeks of talking and planning, deciding what each of them would do, putting their plans on paper and then into action. "We've done pretty well for ourselves."

Folding his arms over his chest, Snape's expression changed to something that almost resembled concern. "Do you trust these other people? This Hanson and Davis whom you would foist upon me?"

For the first time, Harry could detect the trepidation in Snape's face. "They wouldn't be working for us, if we didn't. Not only did we complete both wizard and Muggle background checks on everyone who works for us, we also do spot checks periodically. Hanson and Davis have been with us for five years each. They've gone through at least three checks."

"Five years isn't that long." Snape looked away. There was nothing in his tone or stance to convey his worry and fear, but Harry could sense it in him.

While he would never take any client's concerns lightly, Snape allowing him to see his unease made Harry doubly sensitive to it. It also made him feel oddly protective. "You know Hermione. Do you think she would miss something this important?"

"No one is perfect, not even her." In another place and time, those words would have sounded scornful and insulting, but now they were quiet, nearly respectful.

Harry heard what they didn't ask and replied to that. "With her, it's a lot less likely than with anyone else."

"As I have no choice, I'll accept it with good grace." Snape's demeanor changed again, his tone becoming sharper, more tense.

"That would be a first," Harry snapped before he could call it back. Mortified, he opened his mouth to apologize for his unprofessional blunder. "I'm sorry."

Snape waved a hand dismissively, looking much more pleased than insulted. "I was beginning to wonder if the Harry Potter I once knew was even in there anymore."

Although he knew he shouldn't, Harry laughed, too. His irritation finally eased. "I'm a professional. I try hard to act the part, even when I don't want to."

"Surprisingly, you do it quite well. You've managed to grow up after all." Snape looked down at him.

Shock shut Harry's mouth for a moment. He could not believe that Snape had just complimented him. Wasn't a complimenting Snape the harbinger of the apocalypse? "Thank you," he said, feeling a blush of pure pleasure break out on his face.

"Not so grown-up though, that you can't blush at a compliment." The amusement in Snape's voice was reflected in his eyes.

"I believe that is the first one you've ever paid me."

"Perhaps it's the first one you've deserved." Despite Snape's words, there was a note of something that sounded suspiciously like respect in his tone.

Maybe Harry just wanted to hear it. "Have you mellowed so much?"

Snape's back straightened for a moment, and then, relaxed. "Perhaps," Snape said, not quite smiling.

A mellow Snape was a fascinating concept. One Harry would definitely like to explore, should he ever get the chance.

The thought brought him up short. Where had that come from? He regarded Snape intently. The lack of constant fear of death or exposure as a spy had changed Snape. The longer hair softened his harsh features just enough to make him striking rather than wholly unattractive. His complexion was a more healthy pale cream, rather than the chalky white it used to be. Nothing would make Snape handsome, but for some reason he could not understand, Harry was beginning to find him intriguing.

Snape smirked at him as if he knew what Harry was thinking. Fighting the urge to look away, he kept his head up and his eyes focused. He could feel the heat streak across his face again. It annoyed the hell out of him. The days of him being a blushing school boy were long over, and he would just as soon not relive them.

Snape's expression lost its amusement and turned serious. "I want you or Weasley here at all times, even if you are not on duty."

Harry nodded. While it was inconvenient, it wasn't an uncommon request. He didn't understand it completely, but people seemed to feel safer with either him or Ron around. "All right. One of us will remain here. We'll need a room to sleep in."

"As you have seen, I have plenty to choose from." Snape waved his hand towards the upstairs. "Choose whichever you wish. Simply let Dassie know."

Proximity was all that mattered. "We'll take one on the same floor as yours," Harry said thinking about what he would need to bring from home.

* * *

Diagon Alley was crowded, Knockturn Alley more so. The four agents working on duty spread out into the crowds, trying to keep tabs on anyone or anything that looked even remotely suspicious. Ron walked a few paces ahead of Harry and Snape, another agent walked a few paces behind.

"Is this really necessary?" Snape glanced around, looking appalled at the precautions. "I'm hardly the Minister of Magic."

Despite being increasingly frustrated with his attitude, Harry managed to keep his tone mild as he said, "You're a war hero who--"

"I intensely dislike that phrase when used in relation to me. War does not make one a hero, especially in my case." Snape sounded embarrassed, as if he thought he were unworthy of the term.

"What would you call it? You risked your life over and over as a spy."

"I call it atonement for my crimes -- crimes for which I will never have paid enough to settle the debt of them."

"How long were you a Death Eater?" Harry had always been curious as hell about Snape's past, but he'd never dared ask about it. He only did it now because he had a legitimate reason.

Snape's expression was murderous, and clearly trying to intimidate him. "It's none of your--"

However, if Harry were so easily intimidated, Voldemort would have destroyed him. He wanted an answer and put a hand on Snape's arm to stop him. "How long? It's important."

"How could it possibly matter now? I think you are prying too far."

"We need to know everything we can about your past." At Snape's pointed look, Harry let go of his arm. "If you'd given us the list when we asked for it, we wouldn't have to try to pull the information out of you one detail at a time. You never do anything the easy way, do you?"

For a moment, Snape looked absolutely outraged, ready to explode, but then he sighed. "I'll give you the list. When I have the time."

"How long were you with them?" Harry asked again.

For a moment, Snape seemed to be debating with himself. "Four years." Snape glared crossly and started to walk away.

"Wait. From the time you were what, sixteen, until you were twenty?"

"Something like that. What difference does it make? I still did those things."

"Horrible things, I'm sure. But surely you've done enough for your penance."

"I can never do enough penance, Potter. It's something you cannot understand. I do wish you would drop the subject." Snape turned away, but not before Harry saw the wounded look in his eyes.

It bothered Harry more than it should have that he had to push Snape on so obviously a painful subject, but that didn't negate the need. "I'm sorry to have distressed you."

"You did not," Snape said, coldly.

They both knew he was lying.

Was there anything he could say to make it better? Harry wondered why he even cared. "The information is necessary for security."

Snape's look changed to annoyance and he snapped, "My privacy means --"

"Down!" Ron yelled as he took off at a dead run.

Adrenalin flooded through Harry as he forced Snape face first onto the ground. A shot rang out and Harry felt something fly by his left shoulder as they dropped to the pavement. A bit too close for comfort, that. A second shot passed over their heads.

For several long moments, chaos reigned. People screamed and ran in all directions. Snape struggled to get up and Harry kept him down by sheer determination and better leverage. "Stop moving, damn it," Harry ordered.

"Let me up." Snape pushed at him again.

"Don't be an arse. Someone shot at you. Do you want to die?" Harry asked with more force than was strictly necessary. He shifted on top of Snape again, trying to keep him still.

The fight went out of Snape, and he sighed resignedly. Harry looked up to see Ron running towards them.

Panting, Ron leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees for a moment to catch his breath, then called into his mobile, "I lost him. Is it clear?"

"As far as we can tell, it is," came the answer. "Did you get a look at him?"

"Negative. All I saw was light hair, under a hood. It could have been dirty blond or light brown." He looked down at them as he closed his phone. "Okay, Harry. Let him up."

Snape stood, snarling at them, "What in the bloody hell did you think you were doing?"

"We were trying to save your life, you ungrateful git," Ron said and then took a breath, visibly trying to calm himself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."

"Yes, you did. Don't try to be polite. It's not a good look for you, Weasley."

"You're the client. We try not to be rude to people who pay us," Harry said, trying to reign in his own temper. He had to stay calm and keep Snape calm as well. The last thing they needed was a temperamental Snape. Oh, wait, was there any other kind?

Snape looked at him and smirked his best greasy potion's master smirk. "I see. Aren't you both all grown up and professional?"

Ron ignored the tone and implications. "We'd like to think so, yes." He turned to Harry. "We should get him back to the manor as soon as--"

"No. We most certainly are not going back to the Manor. I've supplies to buy and I intend to buy them." Snape's expression was mulishly stubborn.

"In case it's escaped your attention, someone just tried to kill you," Ron spat out disgustedly, glaring at Snape.

"No?" Snape's eyes grew wide with mock surprise. "I hadn't realized that at all. What are you going to do about it?"

"If you won't listen to your security, then there isn't much we can do about it, is there?" Harry asked, furious. He pulled off his robe and crooked a finger through the hole in the full sleeve of the upper arm. "Damn. Ruined another one."

Looking at Harry's finger, Snape went pale.

Ron glanced at Harry and shrugged. "Put it on the expense report. The board will have to replace that."

"Yeah. But these were my favorites," Harry whined, relief making him giddy. "Ah well. It's not the first set I've ruined."

Snape made a disgusted noise and walked away.

"Where do you think you're going, Headmaster?" Ron asked. When Ron used that tone most people stopped dead in their tracks.

That it didn't work with Snape wasn't a surprise to Harry, but Ron didn't look at all pleased.

Snape turned around and sneered at him. "I've potions ingredients to buy."

"You'll need to speak with the Aurors," Ron called after him, sounding even more displeased.

Usually the client did not actively try to get himself killed. "I'll stay with him. Gather the rest of the agents and follow us." Harry waited for Ron's nod before taking off after Snape at a trot.

When Harry caught up with him, Snape stopped. There was more than just annoyance in his eyes.

"Give me a minute, Potter." A tremor had crept into Snape's voice and a shudder ran through his thin frame.

Without a word, because nothing he could say would make it better, Harry took hold of Snape's arm and pulled him into an alley between the two main streets. It was grim, filthy, and stank with years of decaying debris, but it had far fewer people than the street. As he watched, Snape leaned his head against the dirty wall, breathing in and out audibly. After a moment, he straightened and glared once more at Harry. "What were you thinking?"

Completely confused, Harry knew he must have a stupid expression on his face, but he did not have a single clue what Snape was talking about. "Thinking?"

"Risking your life like that." Snape was visibly shaking as he wrapped both of his arms around his own waist.

The physical reaction was normal, and Harry understood that. What he couldn't believe was what Snape had said. He was tempted to ask what Snape thought he'd been doing for the last week, but said instead, "I am paid to put myself between you and the bullets. I'm here to protect you."

For another moment, Snape stared at him in what looked liked complete disbelief. He snarled once, an incoherent wounded sound and then, turning on his heel, he stalked out of the alley, leaving Harry to hurry after him.

"Where are you going?" Harry put a hand on his arm to stop him, wishing there was some way to comfort him and feeling completely inadequate when he came up with nothing to help.

With a withering look that would destroy most people, Snape shook off his hand, and kept going.

For the rest of the afternoon, through the interviews with the Aurors, as well as shopping for the potions supplies, Snape refused to speak a word to Harry directly.

* * *

"Is he still not speaking to anyone?" Ron asked later in the evening, when he'd come back to the manor to relieve Harry.

"He's been locked up in his lab all evening. He didn't come out for dinner. I finally sent the house elf in, what's her name, Dassie. He dumped the tray on the floor and screamed at her." Harry felt sorry for the poor elf; she deserved better than Snape's ire. He stood up and stretched, his back popping satisfyingly. "I'm exhausted."

Ron took Harry's seat on the sofa in front of the fire. "Been a rough day for everyone."

Harry looked towards the stairs. "I think it has finally hit home with him and he needs to process it."

"At everyone's expense?" Ron laughed without any humor in it. "Why should this be any different from any other time? Go to bed, Harry. I'll call you if something happens."

"Right, then." Wearily, Harry trudged up the stairs, far too concerned to even consider going to bed before he checked on Snape.

The door to the lab was ajar. Under the bright wizard lights, Snape's face had an unhealthy pallor. He sat on a high stool with his hands folded tightly in his lap, staring into space. A dozen jars with some kind of dark blue liquid sat neatly on the worktable, a quill, ink, and labels beside them.

As Harry started to back out of the room, Snape turned to look at him. "What did you want, Potter?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Just to check on you--"

"I am hardly a child in need of minding." Snape's tone lacked its usual acerbity. Indeed, he sounded as weary as Harry felt.

Something softened inside of Harry, and he couldn't quite bring himself to leave Snape alone. "You've had a scare. It's not unusual for--"

"Do not begin to tell me what is usual. I know more about this than you ever will." Snape's snappish tone was back.

Fighting about it would do neither of them any good. Besides which, Harry simply didn't have the energy for it. "All right. It's been years since you've had to consider your own safety."

"It's not something one is likely to forget. Ever."

Harry would bet that Snape still had nightmares about that time. Merlin knew that he did. "It's not something an academic should have to worry about."

"I'm more than an academic." Snape's face grew harder, more remote. "I'm an ex-Death Eater. I should always be concerned about who is going to come after me for my past crimes."

"Is there someone specific you think might want to kill you now?" Harry had thought that from the beginning, but so far, they hadn't found anyone with a link or a motive.

Snape's look was withering. "There are too many someones to choose from. Someone I hurt, either intentionally or indirectly. Someone whose loved one I killed. Someone who was loyal to Voldemort. Someone who thought I was. Need I continue?"

Irritated, Harry folded his arms against his chest, and glared right back at Snape. "On the other hand, it could be a student to whom you gave a poor grade or at whom you yelled once too often."

"Of all of the things I considered, that seems the most unlikely."

"Why?" Harry didn't like the expression on Snape's face. It was the same one he'd seen in school when he'd said or done something stupid without realizing it and Snape rushed to rub his nose in it.

"Did it never occur to you that there might have been a reason why Dumbledore kept me on as a teacher?"

"I thought it was probably to keep you protected. To give you a safe haven from Voldemort. Was there another reason?"

"If I'd been looking for safety, I'd have gone into hiding. It would have been safer than Hogwarts." Snape's expression became more amused.

It made Harry think again that Snape was a party to a joke that Harry hadn't got yet. He knew Snape was going to torture him with whatever this was until he figured it out. "I'm not following. Why did you stay, after everything? I've always thought you hated teaching."

He fixed Harry with a sharp-eyed stare and snapped out, "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Fury exploded in Harry's chest and it was all he could do to keep his temper. "I'm not in school anymore. Don't begin to think you can do that to me again."

There was some part of Harry that knew he should have let his anger go a long time ago, but there were things that were just too painful to forget and being humiliated at eleven with no reason, was one of them.

For an instant, surprise lit across Snape's face. "You're still angry, aren't you? It's been what, eighteen, nineteen years since then."

"You were still angry at my father, and it had been more than twenty years." Harry met his eyes, but he couldn't hold the stare. He looked away.

"You're right. I hated your father," Snape conceded with a bow of his head.

He'd always felt it grossly unfair that Snape should have judged him so harshly without having known him at all or given him a chance. "And me as well."

"Actually, that isn't true." Snape's mouth twitched, very nearly into a smile.

"Come on, Headmaster. I was there. I remember it." It was not something he was ever going to forget, though he did concede maybe it was time to forgive.

"You were eleven. You believed what you were told to believe." Snape's tone still held a note of amusement, but his expression was far more serious. "Think Potter. Who else was in your classes? Who were your classmates' parents?"

As the names of Sytherins floated through Harry's head: Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle; it seemed too obvious to have missed for so long. "Fuck."

"Ten points to Gryffindor for finally reaching the correct conclusion. Better late than never." Snape's tone was as cutting a sneer as Harry ever remembered him having.

In about one second, Harry was sure he was going to start laughing manically. "You terrorized seven years of potions classes because of me?"

"Despite your assumption that the entire world revolves around you, it does not. There were other issues at stake there."

He looked at Snape accusingly. "Without any consideration for whom you might be hurting in the process?"

"You scored an outstanding on your potions NEWT. What more did you want?"

"Some consideration." He hated the plaintive note that had crept into his voice, but part of him was still protesting that he'd been the one who'd suffered. He and his friends had been the ones to bear the brunt of those decisions.

Of course, Snape was having none of it. "Oh, do grow up, Potter. Life is not fair."

"I could say the same thing to you. You haven't let go of what my father did to you in all these years."

Snape looked at him and laughed mockingly. "Did you ever think that perhaps you were supposed to think that, too?"

Incredulous nearly beyond speech, Harry glowered, his hands starting to shake with his rage. He couldn't believe that he'd been set up for that, or that he'd fallen for it. "You left the pensieve for me to look into?"

Snape pinned him to the wall with a pointed look. "We thought there was a good chance you might invade my privacy that way."

Humiliation swept over Harry. "But you were so angry. I know that wasn't feigned."

"Of course I was angry," Snape said, sounding furious about it even now. "That _was_ private. You lived down to my worst expectation of you."

His mortification complete, Harry felt fifteen again. To this day, he still carried the guilt about having invaded Snape's privacy. Even with the perfect opportunity to made amends, he still couldn't quite bring himself to do it. He could feel the blush start and he resolutely ignored it. "You do still hate my father. I know you do."

"I will always hate your father and his friends for what they did to me in the years we were in school together. There is a difference between hating someone and allowing it to rule my life. I've tried to leave it behind." Snape looked at him and asked without any mockery, "Don't you still hate Draco Malfoy for the carnage he caused in your life?"

The question was unexpected and it stopped Harry cold while he thought about it. What exactly did he feel about Malfoy? He was surprised by his own lack of emotions, and shook his head. "Oh, I suppose I do wonder what actually happened to the slimy little ferret, but beyond curiosity, I don't care. Do you know what happened to him?"

"Why do you ask?" There was definite a flatness in those few words that most people would have dismissed as uncaring, but not Harry.

"I'm simply wondering." Harry studied his expression. It was clear that Snape was trying to hide something, but he wasn't sure if Snape was actually letting him see that or not. He took it as an invitation to ask, "You do know, don't you?"

"He was about to expose me as a spy to the Dark Lord." Snape's eyes were without emotions, revealing nothing, and at the same time Harry could perceive some deep pain in what wasn't showing.

"You had to kill him?" The idea bothered Harry, although, he wasn't sure why. He, of all people, knew the necessity of having to kill.

Snape's expression was still mostly blank. "No. I suspect that he may have wished he were dead when all was said and done. I made it seem as if he were the spy for Dumbledore. Suffice it to say that the Dark Lord was not pleased."

Wishing he could let it go and knowing his curiosity would not let him leave it alone, Harry gave in to the inevitable. "What did Voldemort do?"

Snape's long sigh sounded strangely like regret. "The Dark Lord gave Draco to his father to dispose of."

"So, he is dead." Somehow that didn't make it any better. Harry hadn't actually hoped Malfoy was alive. Not at all. Not after all he'd done.

"No. At least, not as far as I knew. Lucius told me in confidence that he couldn't kill his son. He cast Cruciatus on him, but couldn't keep it up long enough to kill Draco. Finally, he stripped Draco of all of his magic and abandoned him."

"Wow, Malfoy actually showed mercy?" Harry found that nearly impossible to believe. It went against every single thing he knew about Lucius Malfoy.

When he saw Harry's look, Snape nodded. "I know. I find it hard to believe as well. I think there was some humanity left in him, after all."

"Any idea what happened to Draco?" Not that he cared one way or another, but Harry had a hunch. Something that said not to let the matter drop.

"He disappeared." Snape shrugged. "I suspect that the Muggle world simply ate him alive. He was not equipped to deal with it nor were his prejudices likely to be tolerated."

Unfortunately, Harry knew Malfoy well enough to know that he might have adapted out of necessity. The idea put a ball of dread in Harry's gut. "He's probably alive out there and very angry."

"But powerless. Those kinds of spells don't wear off."

Harry wasn't hearing Snape anymore. His mind had latched onto the idea and he was running through the scenarios. "Everything that just happened has been Muggle based -- no magic was used."

Snape's face went pale. "You have a point."

"It happens sometimes." Harry chuckled and pulled out his mobile. "Give me a second."

Hermione answered on the first ring. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"We should find out everything we can about Draco Malfoy."

"Isn't he dead?" Hermione's tone had gone perfectly flat. Malfoy senior was responsible for the death of her parents, but it had always been suspected, but never proven, that Draco was involved in it, too.

"Apparently not." Harry went on to tell her what Snape had said.

"I'm on it. I'll let you know as soon as I know something." Hermione rang off.

Harry looked back at Snape. "I don't care to think of Malfoy with the power to avenge himself on you."

"Lucius would not have left anything to chance with the spell. I'm sure whereever he is, he's still a squib."

"I hope you're right. But it can't hurt to check it out. I personally don't care about him one way or another, except in terms of how dangerous he might be."

"You've managed to let your hatred of him go, then." In anyone else those words would have been complementary, but with Snape, it was never what it seemed. "I wonder, should I feel honored that it is only me that you still hate?" Snape asked, his expression curiously blank, as if the answer didn't matter to him.

Harry laughed, because clearly it did. "I feel many things for you, Headmaster, but hate isn't amongst them."

"You do know that could be taken wrong." He looked somewhere between appalled and amused as he said it.

Which was about how Harry felt about it. "Yeah, I suppose that it could. By someone other than you. You're not foolish enough to confuse it for anything else than what it is."

Harry stood and smirked at him, far more confidently than he actually felt.

A light of true amusement flashed in Snape's dark eyes for a moment and then he inclined his head. "Indeed not, Potter."

"If I don't go to sleep right now, I'll be asleep tomorrow when I should be guarding you. Good night." Harry walked away.

As he closed the door, Harry heard Snape mutter, "I thought you were off tomorrow."

* * *

The next morning, weary from another restless night, Harry came down to breakfast to find Ron half asleep over his tea.

"Hey, mate. Why don't you go home?" Harry asked as he got a cup of tea from the silver service on the sideboard and sat down heavily at the table.

"I will. Soon. If I don't, Suzette and the kids will disown me. Do you mind staying?" Ron pushed the hair that had escaped the tie he used to hold it back with, out of his face.

"Nah. I've no plans for the weekend. I could use more sleep. Hanson doing the first twelve?" Harry stifled a yawn

"Yeah. Then Davis. They're going to switch off for the weekend. Give us both a break." Ron sounded relieved.

"Have we heard anything from Hermione on Malfoy yet?"

Ron shook his head. "Nothing of value. According to her, he doesn't exist."

"Of course not." Harry took a long sip of his tea. "I can't remember the last time we pulled a week of back-to-backs like this."

"I think it was before I met Suzette." Ron stuffed the last of a sweet roll into his mouth.

"If I remember correctly, that particular assignment was why you met her." Harry had been thrilled when Ron came back happier than Harry had ever seen him.

"Yeah. That was the first time I'd had a holiday and the means to completely enjoy it on my own terms."

"You went to Paris, and found true love. How romantic." Harry batted his eyelashes at Ron and they both laughed.

Ron's smile was fond. "I'm so bloody lucky. I never thought I'd be this successful or this happy."

"Wish I had a bit of that luck." Before Ron could say anything about him being ridiculous, Harry changed the subject. "I had an interesting conversation with Snape last night."

A smirk appeared on Ron's face and he raised an eyebrow. "Interesting and Snape are usually a bad combination."

"Yeah, well...." Harry paused to collect his thoughts. He knew he should let it go and not let Snape get the better of him, but he was still angry about the whole conversation. "Did you ever complain to your brothers about what a git Snape was, especially what a horrible teacher he was?"

Ron chuckled. "All the time."

"What did they say?" Harry asked.

"Fred and George agreed with me all the way, but...." Ron looked down at his cup, considering the question. "Percy always said I was a whiner, and didn't work hard enough. He said that Snape was a strict teacher, but not nearly as horrible as I made him out to be."

"Yeah, but Percy is such a prig." He loved all the Weasleys, but Percy was the one with the least sense of humor and who was the most difficult to be around. Aside from family gatherings where he couldn't, Harry tried to avoid him.

"He is." Ron looked thoughtful for a moment, and then added, "But you know, Bill and Charlie said the same thing. Snape definitely favored his Slytherins, but wasn't completely unfair like he was with us."

While he hadn't thought Snape was lying to him, it still came as a shock to have it confirmed. "Snape said last night it was all a set-up to keep his cover."

"Blimey." Ron's outraged expression was priceless. "At our expense, too. The bastard."

"Dumbledore, too," Harry added. "On the other hand, the information he got saved our arses more than once during the war, not to mention a whole lot of other people's as well."

Ron frowned. "Point taken. Grudgingly....damn."

"As he pointed out, I scored an outstanding on my potions NEWT and so did you. It got us into Auror training." It was something, Harry supposed, but it didn't negate his resentment at being treated so bloody unfairly.

"Another point." Ron's brow creased for a moment, and then he shrugged and stood up. "I'm too tired to think about it. I reckon I should get on home."

"Give the kids a kiss for me." Harry smiled up at Ron.

"Will do." Ron squeezed his shoulder as he went out.

* * *

Part 3

With a loud pop, Marcus Bennett appeared just outside the gates of Snape Manor. He was a good-looking man, Harry thought, maybe twenty years older than Snape. It was surprisingly hard to tell with some wizards. He carried two cases.

"I'm Marcus Bennett." Bennett set down of one of the cases, and held out his hand. "Harry Potter, I presume?"

Nodding, Harry shook his hand, studying him. Bennett was taller than Snape, broader as well. His long hair was tied back from his narrow face, and was more gray than black. Deep laugh lines were cut into the skin around his blue eyes. "It's an honor to meet you, sir. How was your portkey from the States?"

"For me as well. You know public portkeys...." Bennett shrugged, sounding tired.

"Only too well. At least we don't have to travel the way the Muggles do." Harry shuddered. The thought of being trapped in a floating tube horrified him. "May I take those bags for you?"

Bennett pointed to the bag on the ground. "That one has clothes in it, you can take it."

"And what does the other one have in it?" Harry used a tone that said he expected an answer.

Bennett blinked and then said, "Potion ingredients that Severus and I will be using in our experiments."

"You had to bring them from the States?" Harry found that odd, but one could never tell what peculiarities would be found in a potions master. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take a look at both of them before I allow you into the Manor." Expectantly, Harry held out his hand for the case.

"Are you going to know what you're looking at?" The question's tone was reminiscent of Snape. But he handed over the case without hesitation.

"I can make an educated guess." Harry signaled for one of his agents to join them. He handed the case to the witch, and she held it flat in her hands. Carefully, he pulled his wand from his robe and did a quick scan of it. Not surprisingly, he found nothing on the outside. He opened it and ran the wand over the contents. Some of the ingredients were quite rare, but even the ingredients that were poisonous were not out of the ordinary. He closed the case and handed it back to Bennett. "I'm sorry, but I had to check."

"No. It's fine. I understand that Severus requires protection." Something in the way he said it gave Harry pause. It seemed very protective in an indefinable way. He ran a quick wand search over the other bag. Clothes and toiletries, as Bennett had said. "Let me help you with that," Harry took the bag and opened the gates, allowing Bennett in.

"Severus made light of the fact that your firm is guarding him," Bennett said as they started up the drive. "I take it the situation is more serious than he let on."

Amused by Bennett's dry tone as much as by what he'd said, Harry nodded. "He has a way of understating things, doesn't he?"

When Bennett laughed, his eyes lit up. "I'm betting he's making it as unpleasant for you as possible."

"You have no idea." Harry snorted, pleased to discover that Snape's friend had a sense of humor. That always made things easier.

"I've known Severus since he was thirteen. Rest assured I know exactly how difficult he can be. I don't envy you your job."

Opening the front door, Harry allowed Bennett to precede him. "At least with you here he'll stay out of trouble for a while."

"I'll do my very best to keep him safe." Bennett's tone was perfectly amiable, but something about that protectiveness felt odd.

A gut instinct that had proven correct over the years told Harry that Bennett wasn't a threat to Snape. What else he was, Harry didn't know, and he didn't have the time to consider it, now.

Snape hurried into the room, wiping his hands on a towel. He smiled when he saw Bennett. A bright smile, full of joy, something Harry had never seen him do before, something that slid very pleasantly along his nerves. Harry had a sudden wish to see Snape smile like that more often and not just at Bennett.

Dropping the towel on the entrance table, Snape reached out with both hands to take Bennett's and they came together in an affectionate hug.

"It's so good to see you again, Marcus," Snape said in a deep pleasant tone as he pulled back after hugging Bennett.

That tone showed everything that friendship should be. For a second, Harry wondered what it would be like to have that kind of friendship with Snape. Snorting at his own idiocy, Harry couldn't imagine why he cared. He shook himself, focusing back on Bennett and Snape.

"And you, Severus." Bennett smiled warmly at Snape, his hand stroking down Snape's hair in a fatherly gesture. "What have you planned for us?"

"Come along, and I shall show you." Snape held out one hand and bowed slightly, indicating that Bennett should precede him out of the entrance hall. Before he started up the stairs, he turned to Harry and said, "Have Dassie bring up Marcus' bags will you, Potter?"

The tone was so dismissive it cut into Harry, despite his best efforts to ignore it. "Don't leave the premises without informing me where you're going."

Bennett smiled again, this time at him. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry Potter."

"And you, sir." His chest tight, Harry waited as Snape led Bennett up the stairs. He couldn't believe his reaction to seeing them together. He'd never harbored any doubt about his feelings for Snape, especially in the past. A week in the difficult man's presence had not changed his feelings. What in Merlin's name was wrong with him?

* * *

"Possessive, isn't he?" Marcus asked in perfect seriousness as they made their way down the hall to the rooms Snape had picked for him to stay in.

"After you." Snape held the door open. He did not care for the look in Marcus' eyes. "What do you mean?"

"His whole attitude changed after you hugged me," Marcus said, his whole face lighting with amusement. He took a seat next to the unlit fireplace.

"Would you rather I had not done it?" Snape asked, concerned that he might have overstepped his bounds. Even after knowing Marcus for nearly all his life, he'd never presume anything with him. He sat down opposite of Marcus. "I suspect the attitude change was simply shock. His bastard of a potions professor actually has a friend in the world."

"Of course, I don't mind that you hugged me. What a silly thing to ask. I would be hurt if you hadn't." Marcus smiled at him, looking as if he knew exactly what Snape was thinking. "I doubt Mr. Potter thinks you're friendless."

Snape didn't want to admit that Potter wouldn't be wrong in thinking him friendless. "What are you thinking, old man?"

Marcus' smile widened further, his eyes sparkling in a way that reminded Snape painfully of Dumbledore. "Oh, I'm thinking about the causes of jealousy."

A prickle of irritation went through Snape. "Do not let your imagination drift in that direction. You would be wasting your time."

Marcus chuckled again. "He seems to be going to a lot of trouble to protect you."

"He's being paid very well to do that." It occurred to Snape that he sounded like he resented it, but nothing could be further from the truth. He was glad of the barrier between him and Potter, glad there could be no hope of anything beyond their present situation.

"Ah, Severus. I think you're missing what's right in front of you."

"I've missed nothing. You are the one who is looking for things that aren't there." Snape favored him with his best glare, knowing it wasn't as effective on Marcus as it was on other people. Marcus knew him too well.

"I've always thought you needed someone in your life. Someone to care for you." The sincerity in Marcus' voice was deep, so deep that it touched something inside Snape that wanted it too.

Snape would never acknowledge it, however, even to Marcus. "There are people in my life."

"That's not enough. None of your friends or colleagues are going to warm your bed at night. You deserve someone who will love you."

"What utter rot." Snape sneered. There were times when Marcus' sentimental nature drove him mad. "I don't care to discuss this."

"What would you like to discuss, Severus?" Marcus grinned at him, clearly amused.

That amusement irritated the hell out of Snape. "How is Zelda?"

"Gone," Marcus said, and for once he didn't seem at all pleased. "Didn't I mention she left me a few weeks ago?"

"No. You didn't. The last I'd heard from you, she was going to be the fifth Mrs. Bennett."

"There was only one Mrs. Bennett. The rest of them wouldn't take my name." Marcus sounded aggrieved by that, but Snape knew that he wasn't.

"All right. What happened to Zelda?" Snape asked, curious despite himself. He hadn't met the witch, but Marcus had seemed quite fond of her.

"She said she couldn't deal with me having a mistress." Irony colored his voice.

Whatever else Marcus was, Snape knew him to be as loyal as the worst Hufflepuff. Snape gave him a disbelieving look. "That doesn't sound like you at all."

"You needn't sound so disapproving, Severus. She meant my research."

"Ah. The same complaint as all the others, then."

"It wasn't as if she didn't know how much time I spent working. I need to find someone who understands that. Someone who shares my interests." He eyed Snape up and down.

Snape glared at him, folding his arms over his chest. "Oh please. You know I dislike it intensely when you flirt with me."

"I know. I know. I can't help it. I flirt with everyone. You know it, too."

As much as he loved Marcus, and he did, the man drove him mad with that supposed sense of humor. Snape found nothing funny or cute about it. "Cease to do so with me."

Marcus had the grace to look contrite. "I shall try."

"Do more than try. I'm serious, Marcus." Snape hated the fact that his cheeks were heating with a blush and he tried to bluster his way through it. "Shall we get started? We've a lot to do and not all that much time to devote to it. Would you like some lunch? Coffee?"

"Just coffee, thanks. Why don't we drink it in the lab while we go over what you've prepared?"

"I'll have Dassie bring it up. Strong and black, right?"

"Yes. Thank you. Now tell me of your preparations and don't stint on the details." The tone was a bit too professorial for Snape's already irritated mood.

Snape drew himself up to his full height and glowered for all he was worth. "I never leave out any of the details, as well you know it."

"Of course not. I was teasing you again. I'm sorry. I should known better."

Snape felt foolish. What was it about Marcus that made him so defensive? Most times he tolerated the teasing better than this. "It's not as if you don't know how it irritates me."

"I know. I'm sorry." Marcus gave him a repentant smile. The same one he always used when he'd pushed a little too hard. "I do wish you'd lighten up some. Life should be enjoyed."

Snape decided he wasn't going to muck up their time together by giving in to his bad temper. He could take it out on someone else later. Potter, perhaps. Snape smiled at that thought. "I've set up several experiments."

"Excellent. Shall we get right to it? I've been looking forward to this work for weeks." Marcus stood and Snape led him out.

* * *

"Check's done. All clear," Harry said into his mobile and closed it with a snap. He sat down heavily next to Ron on the sofa. "Has Hermione found anything on Draco Malfoy yet?"

"Not that she's said to me. She's been digging around in Muggle records, doing some kind of picture search. Muggle shots or something."

Harry shrugged. "I have no idea. So, nothing so far."

Ron shook his head, his expression very serious. "What else is bothering you, Harry?"

That particular look from Ron always worried him.

"Nothing," Harry said, knowing he was lying and knowing that Ron knew it, too.

For another moment or two, Ron waited for him to continue and then glared at Harry. "You've been snapping and snarling at everyone since Marcus Bennett arrived three days ago.

"I know. I'm sorry. I--" Harry stopped, not knowing what to say. He had no idea why he was in such a bad temper.

"I know seeing them together is bothering you. The question is why."

"It's a fair question," Harry conceded. "I wish I had an answer for you."

"I hate to say this, but the answer seems fairly obvious to me." Ron didn't even crack a smile when he said it.

Another bad sign. "I know what this looks like and what you must think, but it's not true."

"Are you sure? Because from where I'm sitting it looks like you're jealous as hell."

"I'm not." Or more truthfully, he didn't want to be. Harry could feel his face and neck turn red. At Ron's disbelieving look, he asked, "Do you think they're involved?"

"I don't think that's the issue here." Damn Ron, he never let anything pass.

His breath caught in his chest unpleasantly. "Perhaps not, but can we drop it anyway?"

"As long as you're going to be okay with whatever happens."

"As okay as I can be." Which would have to be enough. "There was nothing in the reports about Bennett being involved with Snape. In fact, Snape said they were old friends, but...."

"Yeah. They seem to spend all of their time in the lab together. I know that Bennett was supposed to be Snape's mentor."

"If they are involved, it's none of our business, and if they aren't, then we shouldn't be speculating." Harry didn't want it to be true and if it were true, he didn't want it confirmed.

"You're right, of course. It's none of our concern," Ron agreed. "You need to let it go or it will eat you up inside."

"It's not an issue. Really." Harry appreciated Ron's concern, and he could tell by his look that Ron didn't believe him. "And I'm far too old to have a crush on a teacher -- especially that teacher."

"I suspect it's a bit more than a crush at this point. It's been around a long time." Ron had a world of sympathy in his tone, but it didn't help much.

"You're still not harping on that are you? I was not pining after Snape in school. That's final." Harry couldn't help the twitching on his mouth. This was a ridiculous conversation.

"No matter how mature you think you are, you're never too old for those kinds of feelings. Be glad of it," Ron said, oh so wisely. And Harry wanted to smack him for the tone.

"Even if there were anything on my side, which you know there isn't. The bastard hates me. He always has." At Ron's look, Harry relented a bit. "Okay, maybe he doesn't hate me as much as he did when I was in school. He probably just doesn't care for me very much."

"You did save his life the other day. I'm sure that helps a lot." Ron seemed to be trying to cheer him up in that helpful way he had.

"He saved mine quite a number of times before that. So, we're not even close to being even. Or friends."

"Well, it's probably just as well, then. It would never work between the two of you." That self-satisfied look on Ron's face and the gleefulness with which he said it was enough to make Harry twitch nervously.

He knew he was going to regret asking, but, "All right, tell me why it won't work?"

"Simple. You're both total alphas. Neither one of you will let the other fuck him." Ron chuckled evilly.

Unfortunately, that was a sore spot with him, besides, "That's not true." Well, mostly not true. "I've let other people. Just not that often."

"Me and who else?" Ron's face showed his pride in that little fact.

Something Harry had never understood. Why was Ron so pleased with having fucked him? The experience had been an act of love and faith between them, not remotely a conquest. Or something Ron would even mention to anyone else.

"Aaron," Harry said to answer the question. He'd been a good deal more reluctant with Aaron than with Ron, too.

"And broke up with him less than a month later." Ron's tone changed and he sounded curious and even a bit worried.

There were some issues he was not going to discuss with anyone, even Ron. "It wasn't about that." Not completely anyway.

"It's pretty pathetic when your straight best friend is the best fuck you ever had."

Harry supposed he could tell Ron that he simply hadn't cared for it the other times. Or that it was more about power with Aaron than anything else. But really, it was so long ago that it didn't matter anymore.

Because he knew that Ron expected it, Harry forced out a laugh. "You were the one to put your back into it, mate. I'll say that for you." But it was Ron's love for him that had made all the difference, even if it weren't the romantic kind of love.

Too fast, Ron's smile faded. "Harry, I'm serious. I'm worried about you."

"I know. We don't even know if Snape is gay or not. And even if he is, it's not going to matter because I'm never going to get that far." Saying it out loud bothered him more than he could account for. Maybe Ron was right. But that was a can of worms he could not bear to think about.

"Okay, you may not get to have him, but you might get him to hire you for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. That position opens up every couple of years."

This time, Harry's laugh was genuine, if slightly bitter. "I have more of a chance to fuck Snape over his desk with the portraits giving us pointers, than I do of him offering me that position." Harry paused and looked at Ron. "What makes you think I even want it?"

"I think you're bored with the firm. I think you need something more challenging." Ron said it as if he expected Harry to leave.

Harry was stunned. He couldn't believe that Ron would think such a thing. "You're joking. I love working with you and Hermione. I love this job." A little voice inside his heart said maybe Ron wasn't that far off the mark. As much as he loved Ron and Hermione, there were aspects of his job that did bore him silly.

For a second more, Ron's expression was serious, as if he were going to say something else, but then he snickered. "You know, it's pretty sick to want to fuck Snape with the portraits giving you pointers. I'd think after all this time, you wouldn't need instructions."

"I like the image, though. And the thought that the portraits would never let Snape live it down amuses me no end. Snape's portrait would be hearing about it for all eternity."

Ron chuckled again. "I was right the first time, you're one sick fuck."

Harry laughed, too. And he felt better. "Maybe so. I'll try and keep the snarling to a minimum until Bennett leaves."

"You should do something about the rest of it, mate." Ron sounded as if he believed that Harry had any kind of chance to win in this situation. Harry knew that he wasn't even a player.

"I'm not even sure I like him." Harry could hear the prevarication in the words, even as he said them. "Christ, what's wrong with me?"

"Fuck if I can tell. I'm a simple man. You always liked things much more complicated than I ever understood." Ron brushed a hand over Harry's fringe. "I'm going to sack out in the room for a while. I'll see you in a few hours."

He looked up at Ron. "Sleep well, mate."

* * *

"Severus? Where are you?" Marcus' voice startled him from his reverie.

"What?" Snape blinked up at him. "Do you know that old Muggle adage about eavesdroppers never hearing anything good about themselves?" Snape wanted to call back the words as soon as he'd spoken them. He knew better than to give Marcus any kind of opening.

"What did you hear?" Marcus put down his knife, obviously expecting an explanation.

Snape looked down at the ingredients he was chopping and sighed. "Nothing good. Nothing I wanted to hear. Nothing I should repeat."

"If you didn't want to talk about it, why did you mention it?" Marcus asked, looking as if he were trying not to smile.

He did have a point. "Last night, Weasley and Potter were having a fairly intimate conversation in my sitting room." Snape paused for a second and then said, "About you and me."

"What exactly were they saying?" Marcus asked, looking even more amused.

Snape glanced down and forced himself not to blush. "There was some speculation on the intimacy of our relationship."

Marcus had the audacity to laugh. "Intimacy? Really. I consider you one of my closest friends, nearly a son, and I --"

Mortified, Snape held up a hand and didn't let him finish. "Don't say it. I will never understand why you feel the need to tell me how you feel about me."

With a flip of his head, Marcus' braid of gray hair went back over his shoulder and he frowned at Snape, his amusement gone. "I think you need to hear that people love you. And unlike you, I don't have any problem at all with saying it."

It was like the sound of a cauldron exploding too close to his head and Snape had to fight the urge to put his hands over his ears. "Merlin, must you go on about all that rubbish? It's most annoying."

Marcus chuckled. "See what I mean? You need to accept that I care about you."

Gritting his teeth against the embarrassment, Snape turned bodily away from Marcus. "I don't have a problem that you care about me. I just don't want to hear about it constantly."

"Or at all."

Snape took several deep breaths and willed himself not to explode. "We've wandered from our subject."

"We have." Marcus continued to smirk at him as if he had a secret that Snape did not know and he would not tell. "I'm assuming I was right and Mr. Potter does in fact have feelings for you."

"I'm not sure what he does. He sounded quite confused. I doubt he has any idea what he wants." Severus put his head in his hands. The entire conversation had been surreal, and he simply could not believe it had taken place.

"What do you plan to do about it?"

Sometimes Snape had to wonder what Marcus was thinking. "Do about it? Why on earth would you think that I want to do anything about Potter? I like my life as it is right now. I want no disruptions. I'm not prepared to deal with the matter at all."

"A beautiful young man is interested in you--"

"You don't know that. Indeed, I would not be surprised to find out this entire train of thought was in your mind alone." Snape couldn't quite believe that he was having yet another of these conversations with Marcus. Over the years, they'd had far too many of them and every one made Snape want to grind his teeth.

"Severus. Don't be foolish," Marcus said, his tone exasperated.

"I am not." Feeling his anger start to rise, Snape put his hands on his hips. "Don't begin to think you know what I want."

"You don't want him?" Marcus looked completely incredulous. "Were I inclined that way--"

"Which you are not, so why mention it at all?" With his tolerance diminishing more as the conversation went on, Snape was ready to leave the room.

"Even I can see he's a lovely young man--"

"Who should not be involved with me. I'm too dangerous and too mean and too set in my ways for him." Snape could not see himself with someone as good-natured as Potter, no matter how old the blasted boy was or how much he might want him. After a while, Snape knew he would eat Potter alive.

"Isn't he the man who saved the wizarding world?" Marcus cocked an eyebrow at him, looking like he was gearing up for a full-blown argument.

Snape had no idea why he tolerated this from Marcus. There was no one else in the world that he would have let speak to him this way. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm thinking he's probably seen quite a lot in his life." Marcus held up his hand. "Even putting the defeat of Voldemort aside, given the business he's in, I think he must have seen at least something of the darker side of life. You, on the other hand, haven't seen much battle in the last several years."

"It's not something I'm going to forget. Ever. If you will remember, I was a Death Eater."

"For a few misguided years, yes, you followed the wrong path. I wish...." Marcus looked down. "I've always felt that had I stayed a few more years at Hogwarts, I might have helped you not to go that route."

"You helped me a great deal all along the way. Despite that, I've made my own mistakes. Ones that I've paid dearly for." And that he'd continue to pay for, for the rest of his life. "I don't blame you for anything."

"I was an adult. I should have helped you." The remaining guilt in Marcus' tone never failed to surprise Snape with its intensity.

"I might not have taken your help." Though having a supporter amongst the staff might have helped with the Marauders. "It's far too late to speculate now."

"So, to get back to Mr. Potter."

"Must we? Why don't we simply drop that subject all together?" Snape put a warning in his tone and a pained look on his face. Sometimes that worked with Marcus.

"I simply find it hard to believe you don't want him. Admittedly, he's not your usual type," Marcus said, seemingly thoughtfully

Snape should know better than to be drawn in by that tone, but he said anyway, "I hadn't realized that I had a usual type." Or any type at all for that matter. And even if he did have one, he'd still admit, at least to himself, that he found Potter somewhat attractive.

"Well, not that I've met that many of your lovers --"

"Or any at all, for that matter. But do go on, you're being quite entertaining." With a sigh, he put down his knife so that he would not be tempted to use it.

"Severus. You could try a man's patience--"

"So, you'll give me to Potter who has none--"

"Perhaps he will find a way to deal with you."

The conversation had gone on long enough. Snape was having trouble keeping hold of the strands of his temper, not to mention his dignity. "I think not."

"Truthfully, all I want is to see you settled and happy." He sounded so bloody sincere. It was all Snape could do not to gag, or at least that's what he told himself the sudden tightness in his gut was about.

"Do stop harping on that."

"You're quite right, Severus. We should be working on these potion ingredients." He made a show of picking up his knife again.

"Thank you." Snape had never felt so grateful.

* * *

The morning of Marcus's departure, Snape hid in his lab, writing up the final notes on their findings. They had made excellent progress on the wolfsbane derivative. Separately, they would refine it and possibly by the end of the year, they might be able to publish their initial findings and start testing.

Snape looked up as Marcus entered, and sighed in disappointment.

"I'm just about ready to go." Marcus's look mirrored Snape's reluctance.

Setting down his quill, Snape stood and walked over to him. His time with Marcus was always too short, no matter how much the man might drive him mad.

"Severus, I know you don't want to talk about this, but...."

Snape's stomach sank and he wished again that Marcus would let the subject go. "Do you have to bring it up now? I thought we'd discussed it already."

"No. You put me off. As you always do when I have something to say that you don't want to hear. You haven't changed since you were a child in that regard."

"I'm hardly a child. I dislike being treated like one. Can't you accept I don't want anything more than what I've been granted?" Snape folded his arms over his chest and wished once again that Marcus would take the not-so-subtle hint.

"I want to see you --"

"No. Even if you'd like to be, you're not my father." There were times in Snape's life when he wished more than anything in the world that Marcus had been his father, however, this was not one of those times.

Marcus looked hurt. "Of course, I'm not. Your father was an ass. I haven't quite decided about you yet."

"Thank you ever so much." Snape took another breath. Despite everything, or maybe because it, Marcus's insults hurt him far more than any others. "I shall try and stay out of your way."

"Severus, stop acting like an idiot," Marcus admonished. "You know better."

Snape conceded that he did, but couldn't help his reaction. "You treated me better than my father ever did. I wish--" Regret washed over him and Snape couldn't complete the sentence.

"I know." Marcus put a hand on his arm and squeezed comfortingly.

"It's enough you reported him." Snape would always be grateful beyond words that someone had even noticed his plight. He'd had a champion for a short time, and he tried not to be bitter that Marcus had left. "What you did was enough -- you reported him when no one else noticed."

Marcus shook his head, looking upset. "It wasn't enough to help permanently, though. You were still abused after that."

"However, you helped me when I needed it, then and later on. I am forever in your debt for--" Again assailed by his remorse and shame, Snape found it impossible to talk about the time right before he left Voldemort's service and became Dumbledore's spy.

Marcus knew the situation well, and thankfully, didn't require that he say more. "I was glad to be there for you. I still wish I could have done more."

"You did more than anyone else had." Snape shuddered. He didn't want to spend his last few minutes with Marcus talking about the past. It was bad enough that he couldn't forget it.

"That wasn't what I wanted to talk about anyway. I want you to promise me--"

"You are such a meddling son of a--" Snape caught himself before he could finish that insult. There were people in the world he would shred to fine dust, and people whom he would not. Marcus fell into the latter category. "I do not--"

"Wish to discuss it. Yes, you've made that very clear. So, we won't discuss it. Just listen to me, please."

"Have I any say in this matter?" Snape knew it wasn't going to do any good. He was trapped and he resented it, but he knew he'd listen. "Say what you will."

"I just want you to consider, consider, letting Mr. Potter get closer to you. He's a nice young man. I suspect he's able to deal with your...challenging personality."

Snape bit his lip on a retort. The last comment hurt more than it should have, perhaps only because of the truth of it. "If you find me so unpleasant--"

"Severus." Marcus' tone was reproving as it had been when he was a student. "That is not what I meant. I want to see you find what you need."

Snape looked down at the floor. If he thought it might change things, he'd argue with Marcus, but that was as futile as trying to catch the wind in his hand.

Much to Snape's discomfiture, Marcus went on. "You need someone who can love you as you should be loved. Someone who sees past the grouchiness to the man behind it. Someone who will take care of you."

"Merlin, I can't believe you said that out loud." It was all Snape could do not to laugh in his face. "Really, Marcus. You are so...American sometimes."

Marcus did laugh, then. "I'm American all the time."

Snape glowered at him. "That's not what I meant. You go on and on about feelings and emotions and the like. Most people don't get so worked up over that sort of thing."

He seemed to find that even more amusing, and Marcus laughed uproariously. "You, my friend, are British to your soul. You won't even admit that you have emotions."

Snape's lips twitched. "I don't."

"Of course not. And what you feel for that young man --"

"Marcus. Please. I genuinely don't want to discuss him." Because of all the people he knew, Marcus was the mostly likely to see what he didn't want seen and know what he didn't want known.

"All right. I'll let it go." Marcus stepped forward and gathered him into his arms. "I'm leaving in a few minutes."

"I know." Snape rested his head on Marcus' shoulder and sighed. There was no way on earth he could ever tell Marcus how safe he'd always felt in his arms, but Snape hoped that he knew anyway.

"Will I see you at the December conference?" Marcus asked, his hand stroking along Snape's back.

Part of Snape wanted to be petty and say no, but practically, he couldn't. "We have a paper to give, don't we?"

"We do, indeed. I'll owl you when I've worked out my part of the research." Marcus stepped back. "And promise me you'll let me know when all of this trouble has ended."

Snape first inclination was to brush it off as he had the whole week, but one look at Marcus told him that would not be acceptable. "All right. I will let you know."

"Thanks." Marcus put a hand on his arm and squeezed. Picking up his bags, he went through the door.

Sitting down on the stool, Snape put his face in his hands. Merlin, his life was speeding out of control.

* * *

Silently, Harry escorted Bennett to the Apparation point just outside the front gates. Marcus set down his suitcases, and turned. "Good bye."

"Good bye, sir," Harry said, politely. "It was an honor to meet you." Which was true, despite the circumstances.

Bennett smiled. "Here's a bit of advice, Harry Potter."

"Yes, sir?" Straightening his spine, Harry expected to hear about his less than exemplary behavior.

"If you really want him, then go after him."

This was so far out of the blue that Harry couldn't process what he'd heard. "Want who? I don't follow you, sir."

Shaking his head, Bennett looked frustrated. "I'd always heard you were a bright boy. Is that not true?"

Harry snorted. He wasn't sure he appreciated being called a boy at his age, even from someone so much his elder. "My intelligence may have been over-stated. I have no idea what you're on about."

"I'm talking about Severus."

"What about him?" Harry had a bad feeling about the direction of this conversation

"If I'm not mistaken, you're interested in him." Bennett looked right into his eyes, daring him to deny it.

Harry had dealt with many kinds of wizards who tried to stare him down. He wasn't intimidated by them and he wasn't intimidated by an American potions master, no matter how good he might be. "Even if that were so -- and I'm not saying it is -- I don't generally trespass where I'm unwelcome. You don't need to warn me off, sir."

Bennett's expression was surprised. "I'm not warning you off, young man. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Harry peered at the man through narrowed eyes. He'd seen the redness around Snape's eyes as they'd parted. "Are you telling me you've broken it off with him?" he asked, incredulous at the man's audacity. "And that I should --"

"Severus and I are just _friends_ ," Bennett interjected. "Good Lord, I was his teacher."

Harry laughed, abashed. He ran a hand through his hair, and glanced briefly back up at the house. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, then. But you see, he was _my_ teacher."

A smile playing on his mouth, Bennett inclined his head. "Point. However, you're more than grown up, now."

"Perhaps. But you were his favorite teacher. He... well, he wasn't mine."

"No, I don't suspect that he was. His life was difficult then." Bennett looked at him straight on, compassion in his eyes. "As was yours from what I've been given to understand."

Harry wondered just what he knew or thought he knew. But dismissed it. Bennett would be gone very shortly and it wouldn't matter. "Yes, sir."

"I want to see Severus happy. I think that he could be with you--"

"You simply expect him to go along with that?" Harry snorted. That was not the Snape he knew.

"Actually, that's your problem. I'm just telling you my view on the subject."

Harry could see Snape doing his nut over this conversation. Actually, Harry wasn't far from that now. "You've forgotten one important thing."

"What would that be?" Bennett raised an eyebrow.

"The man hates me. Has done for many years. I was the bane of his existence all my time at Hogwarts." A pang went through Harry as he said the words. Even with a Pollyanna Potions Master trying to change his mind, he knew that was as true now as it was then.

"You're mistaken. First off, wasn't someone called Longbottom the bane of Severus' existence? I believe that whatever ambivalence he might still feel regarding you will be easily conquered if you press the issue."

Harry laughed again, actually amused this time. "I thought you knew him. He's not likely to take kindly to any kind of suit from me. Trust me on this."

Bennett shook his head and then looked down at his watch. "If I want to catch the portkey back to New York, I need to leave now. Do as you please, Harry Potter."

With a determined effort, Harry managed to smile. "Goodbye, sir."

"Goodbye." A loud crack filled the air and Bennett was gone.

* * *

Part 4

The clocks in the house chimed softly. Midnight, Severus thought, as he entered the breakfast room. To his surprise, it wasn't empty. Potter sat with his back to the door, drinking tea and eating from a plate of biscuits.

"Shall I get more tea?" Potter asked, looking up from his contemplation of the biscuits. He motioned for Snape to take a seat.

"No. Thank you." Snape snapped his fingers twice.

Dassie appeared. Snape asked for tea, and, after fetching the tea, she disappeared. The silence stretched between them and that suited Snape fine. He had no interest in conversation, especially with Potter, especially at this hour of the morning.

"Will you see Mr. Bennett at the year-end conference you usually attend, sir?" Potter asked, as if it mattered a great deal to him where and when he saw Marcus again.

"I can't see how that is any of your business." Snape had no intention of discussing the subject of Marcus with Potter. Ever.

"It's not, of course. Just trying to make conversation." Potter sounded put out, but that wasn't unusual, especially lately.

"Why would you bother? Do you really want to hear the details of my relationship with Marcus?" Snape asked, sneering. He would rather not give Potter any more fodder for ridicule than he already had.

Surprisingly, Potter looked down and unsuccessfully hid his blush. "Simple curiosity, nothing more. I've known you a long time and I know very little about you. And nothing about your friendship with Mr. Bennett."

Snape didn't want to have this conversation. "Perhaps there are reasons for your not knowing. You and I are hardly friends. Hardly likely to be friends."

"That's true, but it doesn't have to be that way. We could be friends." Did Potter have to look so bloody hopeful?

It was most irritating. "Why?" Snape asked.

"Why not?" Potter's eyes blazed with irritation, much more so than the conversation warranted. "Do you dislike me so intensely that you would reject any offer of friendship?"

Where had this conversation gone wrong, Snape wondered. "What rot, Potter. I don't dislike you and you well know it."

That made Potter smile. "I didn't know it, but I'll take your word for it."

Snape wasn't pleased at how much that smile warmed his insides. "What would you like to know, exactly?"

First, Potter looked astounded, and then, unfortunately, quite eager. "I'd like to hear anything you want to tell me. Mr. Bennett said he was your mentor at school?"

"He was a great deal more than a mentor to me. He was kind to me at a time I needed kindness."

Potter nodded.

With a sigh, Snape looked down at his rapidly cooling tea, some part of him wanting to speak of Marcus, and most of him recoiling in suspiciousness at the very thought. "I stayed with him for a few weeks right before I left the Dark Lord's service."

"I thought Dumbledore...."

As much as Snape had loved and respected Dumbledore, he'd also seen him for what he was. "Not at all. Marcus contacted Dumbledore for me and arranged the meeting."

"Did he help you decide to leave Voldemort's service?"

Shape shook his head. "I'd already decided that. He helped me to find the courage to actually do it. He listened to a complete recitation of my crimes and then told me I had to make restitution for them." More than that, he'd held Snape while he'd cried out his remorse. For that alone, Marcus would have his undying love and respect.

"I'm glad you had someone to help you." Potter looked as if he might try and do something comforting, but Snape glared at him and he obviously thought better of it. "I know how much that helps. There were times when I would have given in if I hadn't had Ron and Hermione's support."

The conversation was too intimate. Part of Snape wanted to strike out and open a chasm between them to negate what each of them had said, but he couldn't find the anger to do it. "I shall never be able to repay Marcus for his kindness."

"You know, from the little I've seen of him, he doesn't strike me as the type who wants to be repaid."

"That's very true. But the debt will always remain. Are your questions answered?" Snape didn't want to continue. This conversation was too dangerous and it had already gone on far longer than it should have.

A sly expression danced across Potter's face. "I have one more, if you don't mind."

He did. "What would that be?"

"When he left, Mr. Bennett suggested I pursue you. Should I?" Potter's tone was amused, insouciant, as if it were a joke to him. But a look at his face negated that. He was serious.

Swallowing his shock, Snape felt off balance for a moment. "I cannot for the life of me imagine why you would wish to."

"Can't you?" Potter looked right at him, and for a moment there was a surprising amount of interest... even desire, inhis expression. "I'm sure if you think very hard, you might find a reason."

Too many conflicting emotions bombarded Snape at one time and he could not make heads or tails of it, nor could he truly believe that Potter had any interest in him. Many things had changed since the war and its aftermath, but Potter and his enmity could not be one of them. "I do not wish to."

"Okay," Potter said without hesitation, but his eyes were momentarily bright with hurt he couldn't or wouldn't hide. "Are you sure? I mean, very sure?"

Snape gave him a calculating look, wondering what exactly Potter was up to. "If I say that I am?"

"I'll take you at your word. If that's what you want." Potter's stare was hard, intense. For whatever reason, the answer mattered to him.

Snape opened his mouth to say it was what he wanted, and found, to his astonishment, that he didn't want to. Even acknowledging that Potter was something he might want, Snape knew with an awful certainty that he was something he should never, ever have. His chest felt unbearably tight for a moment. "Potter...Harry, there are too many reasons to not do this."

"So, you aren't interested, then?"

"That was possibly the most asinine thing I've ever heard you say." Snape glared at him. "A man would have to be dead or dead straight not to want you. That isn't the issue."

Twin pink spots appeared on Potter's cheeks. "There is no issue--"

"We do not know each other. Not anymore." Snape tried to tell himself that he wanted to keep it that way. That knowing Potter any better would do neither of them any good.

"I could court you. Get to know you." Potter grinned that idiot grin he had.

It played hell on Snape's nerves and he knew he had to bring this conversation to close before it became overwhelming. "You're supposed to be protecting me."

"I am. This will have to wait until later," Potter said, his tone deflated and perhaps even a bit sad.

"I think that later should be never." Snape wasn't sure he actually meant it, despite how stridently he said it.

"And I think you're saying that because you're scared." Potter put up a hand up before Snape could explode at him. "Wait. Why don't we talk about this at another time?"

That seemed like an excellent idea to Snape.

Silence stretched awkwardly for several moments and then the clock chimed the half hour.

"What are you doing up so late, Potter?" Snape asked, not wanting to leave things quite as stark as they were now.

With a sigh that held a world of emotions, most of which seemed even sadder than his expression, Potter shrugged. He took the last sip of his tea, putting the cup carefully back onto its saucer. "I always stay up until midnight on July 30."

"Why that night in particular?" Something about the date niggled at Snape's brain, as if he should know what it was.

"My birthday is on the 31st." Potter thoughts seemed to be focused inward. "When I was a kid, after I started Hogwarts, my presents would come then."

"Why then?"

For a moment, Potter looked at Snape as if he weren't sure that Snape didn't already know the answer, but then he sighed again. "There was less chance of the Dursleys finding out."

"I see." Snape was as confused as before Potter answered. It was far too late to initiate another intimate conversation. And he wasn't at all sure that he wanted to anyway.

With another considering look, Potter stood up. "No, you don't. But that's okay, too. I'm going to bed."

Snape took another sip of his tea and watched Potter walk away. Another surreal conversation coming to an unsatisfactory end. What was it about Potter that he allowed this to happen, Snape wondered.

* * *

The next morning, as Snape rounded the corner on his way to the breakfast room, he heard the sound of movement in the dining room. Curious, he decided to forgo his tea in favor of knowing what was going on.

"Let's hope we can keep this somewhat private." Potter settled into a chair at the head of the table. Several stacks of folders were piled in front of him, along with two brightly wrapped gifts. Clearly his presents no longer came at midnight.

"Thanks," Potter said, smiling at both Granger and Weasley. He set them aside. I'll open them after."

Snape hid in the shadows at the doorway. There were times when being an ex-spy had its advantages.

"We're not going to be able to have our traditional birthday dinner out until this is over," Weasley said, his voice thick with disappointment.

"No. This is only the second time we've missed it." Granger sounded just as disappointed.

"We'll make up for it," Potter promised. "But thanks. We should get started before _someone_ interrupts."

"You could ward the door," Granger said, but before Snape could become outraged by the suggestion, she continued, "Of course, that would be very rude in another wizard's home."

"It would be. And Snape would likely throw a tantrum. He's been in a snit since his friend left." Weasley sounded like he'd brave Snape's anger, but wasn't going to push the point. He gathered several pieces of paper together and stacked them in front of him. "Shall we start?"

Snape didn't care for Weasley's tone at all. However, he was quite correct about Snape's reaction.

"We'll leave the door open. We've been here nearly a month. What do we know?" Potter sounded tired and more than a little frustrated.

"Not much more than we did when we started," Granger pulled a sheet from her brief case. "The gun used to shoot at Headmaster Snape was a Muggle-made Glock 26, which is also known as a Baby Glock. It was dropped in an alley near the shooting scene and is unregistered -- which is hardly surprising. We can't find out who the gun seller was, so we're thinking it might be black market."

"Anything else?" Potter asked, sounding frustrated. He ran his fingers through his already messy hair, making it stand up worse than usual.

Snape wanted to run a hand through that hair too, but only to smooth it down.

Granger let out a frustrated sigh. "There's nothing new on the search for Draco Malfoy. I've exhausted all avenues of standard and non-standard search, both Muggle and magical."

"So, we're at a dead end on that one." The resignation in Potter's tone was disheartening.

Granger's shoulders slumped as she seemed to deflate. "I'm afraid so."

"What about the background checks on the Hogwarts personnel?" Weasley asked.

"Nothing so far. Everyone is coming up clean. However, the Ministry did not speak to the house elves." Granger's tone said she was furious about the slip up. "They seemed to feel they were too far beneath their notice."

"I'm surprised that Shacklebolt allowed that," Potter said.

"He only did the initial write up, and then he was transferred to another...more pressing case." Granger's tone had lost none of its fury.

Weasley grimaced. "What is more pressing?"

"He didn't say, but we might ask him again to join the firm."

Potter smiled at that. "Maybe we should, Hermione."

Snape wondered if the Ministry was sabotaging the investigation on purpose because they wanted him dead or from actual incompetence. Neither was acceptable and the thought of making someone's life very miserable brightened his day slightly.

"So what did the house elves have to say? Were any of them helpful?" Potter asked, his voice said he planned to have a chat with someone over at the Ministry as well.

A look of disappointment crossed her face. "Oh, they tried to be. You know how house elves are. Two of them have left Hogwarts since the explosion."

"Not that we ever had any, but I didn't think they changed positions. I mean once they were bound to the family or in this case, the school," Weasley said.

"Since the war, that's changed some. The elves at Hogwarts can be paid if they wish to be and also can come and go as they please." Granger sighed, rather resignedly. "Most still wish to be bound."

Did she really expect things to change overnight, Snape wondered. He thought it astonishing that they had changed at all.

"Do we know where the two elves went?" Potter appeared to be reining in his obvious impatience. "Or why they left?"

"We don't. No one seems to know anything except that they both left voluntarily. I haven't been able to find out anything on that. I'm still working on it, though."

"What about the rest of the staff. Has anyone else left?" Weasley had an edge to his voice.

Snape supposed that after a month, they were all somewhat on edge. Merlin knew he was more than ready to have this end. He wanted his life back.

"Only Minerva McGonagall and Rubius Hagrid have left. There are only three new teachers, Daniel Deveraux, the Defense Against Dark Arts teacher and Tabitha Greenway, the new Transfigurations teacher. And your brother, Charlie, now teaches Care of Magical Creatures."

"What about Potions?" Weasley asked, after a moment of silence.

Well, Weasley wasn't a total idiot, Snape decided.

"Over the last eight or ten years, if there was a particularly gifted potions student, Professor Snape would take them as an apprentice for two years." Granger glanced down at her notes. "Two years ago, one of the best potions students to come through Hogwarts since Professor Snape himself finished her apprenticeship with him. When he was made Headmaster, she took over the teaching of the younger students."

"What was her name?" Potter asked.

"Gillian Nelson."

"Slytherin?" Weasley used that sly knowing tone that Gryffindors used when they thought they knew something they didn't.

Snape smirked as Granger said, "Ravenclaw."

This was a useless discussion. Even if he hadn't hired any of the teachers, he knew they could only have had the finest of references. Except Gillian, and he had trained her himself. A rare shard of pride went through him at the thought of her accomplishments. In a few years time, she would be a world class Potions Master.

"Was McGonagall's leaving the reason the hat picked Snape?" Weasley poured himself coffee from a pot on the table. "Want some?"

Granger shook her head. "No thanks. McGonagall was still there two years ago when he was chosen."

"Was she upset?" Weasley asked.

Snape snorted. If Minerva had had any interest in the job, he was sure that damned hat would have given it to her. Silly tabby wanted to retire and plant a garden.

"I think she was relieved. She would have stayed if she had been made Headmistress. I understand she chose her own replacement." Granger put down the papers she was holding and looked at Potter.

"Do you suppose it could have been someone who wasn't selected?" Before anyone could comment, Weasley had the intelligence to rethink the question. "That makes no sense. If they weren't chosen, then there was nothing they could do about it. Killing Snape wouldn't buy them anything." Weasley cleared his throat. "Except a certain--"

"Ron." Granger's tone held a warning.

"Damn. You know I miss being able to insult him." Weasley sounded remarkably wistful.

Snape had to agree. It was no fun at all being insulting if none of them would fight back. Even when they'd been in school, they'd been ever so entertaining when they had a bit of life to them.

"Ron," Granger sounded both amused and admonishing. "I know it will be difficult for you, but you might try growing up, just a bit."

"I expect that I could." Weasley's smile said he wasn't chastised at all.

"But you won't. You never do." Potter's tone was harsher than it needed to be. Both Granger and Weasley looked at him, surprise written across their faces.

Snape wondered about that too. It seemed out of character for Potter to be so dour.

"Go on, Hermione. What else do we have?" Potter was carefully avoiding looking at either of them.

Granger nodded. "We need a plan to draw out whomever it is. They obviously aren't going to come past the wards and guards at the Manor."

Weasley thought for another second, and then said, "If we use Sna--"

"No!" Potter snapped with enough force to startle even Snape. His two companions looked equally taken aback by the eruption. "We're not going to use him for bait."

The vehemence of Potter's refusal was completely out of proportion to the suggestion, and Snape couldn't keep quiet anymore. He moved into the room. "Why not? It could draw out whoever is trying to kill me. I'd like this matter resolved before I return to school for the fall term."

Potter's expression went from belligerent to outraged. "This meeting is not open to the public."

"In case you've forgotten, this is my house." Snape looked down his nose at him.

A flush appeared on Potter's cheeks, but he didn't look away. "If we could leave, we wouldn't be using your dining room. But--"

"Harry--" Granger's voice held a note of warning.

Potter looked at her and sighed. "I'm sorry. Please give us a few minutes of privacy to finish up. Then we'll discuss it with you."

"As I'm here now, why don't we discuss this together?" Snape said as reasonably as he could, given his increasing levels of irritation with the proceedings.

"Why don't you let us make the decisions? That's what we're being paid to do." Potter's tone was high-handed, and it annoyed Snape so much that his fingers itched to draw his wand.

Instead, he folded his arms against his chest, and leaned against the wall. "I don't think so. I have a right to know what's going on. If you will remember, it does concern me."

With a look that would have intimidated anyone other than Snape, Potter clearly didn't want to back down. However he sighed, and visibly worked to get himself under control.

After a moment, he sat back. "As you wish; take a seat. We have some personnel issues to discuss before we can get to the possibilities of using you to draw out the culprit."

His point made, Snape took a seat and listened without comment. The inner workings of their agency were dull beyond belief, but there was nothing he could do now, except endure it. It did not, however, help his mood.

After an interminable half hour, Potter looked at Weasley and then Granger. "Well, what did you have in mind?"

Weasley turned to look at Snape. "If you're willing, we may be able to draw out whomever it is long enough to make a mistake."

He wanted the situation resolved and was more than willing to put his neck on the line to do it, no matter how much the idea unsettled him. "What do you suggest?"

Granger's brow creased. "You've been out of sight for a month. Why don't we start with a few public appearances? That might be an adequate lure. Isn't the Ministry charity ball next weekend?"

Weasley smiled. He actually seemed as if he was looking forward to attending. "Suzette and I were planning to go. She's been looking for new robes for a month."

"Yes, Thomas and I were going to go with you, weren't we? I haven't had time to get new robes." There was ever so slight a whine in her voice.

Something Snape would not have expected to hear over new robes. Not from her. But then, he'd never understood a witch's need for new robes for every occasion.

"Am I going?" Potter looked puzzled as if he actually didn't know. If it weren't so pathetic, Snape might have found it amusing.

"You said you would," Granger said, and gave him an aggravated look that changed to resigned as Snape watched. "I take it you don't have a date, either."

"I do now," Potter looked at Snape.

"Merlin, is that actually necessary? I detest these sorts of events. Making small talk with so many morons always gives me a headache."

"You were planning on attending, weren't you?" Potter seemed to feel that Snape actually had a choice about it.

"Yes. I'm afraid I must. Hogwarts receives a part of its scholarship money from the revenue of the ball. All of the teachers are invited, though few of them want to attend."

"It's lucky I asked. You won't have to be bored to death alone." Potter smiled at him, but he didn't seem any happier about going than Snape did. That was some compensation.

* * *

One of the many things Snape appreciated about the manor was the enhanced acoustics in every room. From any point in most rooms, he could hear what was being said quite clearly.

Five people stood in his entryway, only three of whom he knew. He assumed the small, immaculately dressed blonde witch was Suzette Weasley, and the tall, dark-haired, rather aloof looking wizard was Thomas Smythe.

Before any of them spotted him, Granger turned to Potter and whispered, "I'm a bit concerned about the Hogwarts background checks."

Potter's expression was immediately concerned. "What's the problem?"

"It's nothing I can put --" She looked up and saw Snape at the top of the stairs. "We'll talk about it later, okay?"

Following her gaze, Potter caught sight of him and gasped. "Don't say anything to him, yet," Potter whispered, never taking his eyes off Snape.

He understood that Potter was trying not to worry him, but being treated as if he needed to be protected from the truth, annoyed Snape no end. He bit back his temper, knowing it would have to wait.

Weasley snorted softly and leaned over to whisper to Potter, "Close your mouth, Harry or you'll get drool on your robes."

Potter gave Weasley a withering look, and returned his eyes to Snape. The appreciation in Potter's gaze gave Snape a warm feeling inside that he steadfastly refused to acknowledge.

"Even I can appreciate how good the Headmaster looks tonight," Granger whispered with a good natured chuckle.

As he walked across the foyer to where they stood, their chatter stopped.

"Good evening," Snape said, politely.

"Headmaster," Ron said, with ever so slight a warning in his tone. "This is my wife, Suzette. Suze, this is Headmaster Snape."

With a smile that was only half-forced, Snape bowed and kissed her hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Weasley."

"And you, sir." She smiled up at him with slightly narrowing eyes. "Do call me Suzette, Headmaster."

Snape smiled down at her. "Suzette. Please call me Severus. I'm given to understand you are the reason the offices of Granger, Potter and Weasley run as smoothly as they do."

Her blush was becoming, and she beamed at him. "I'd like to think I contribute in some small way."

Snape could almost see her thinking about every complaint she'd ever heard about him and wondering. "Knowing those three, I'm quite sure that there is nothing small about your job." He kept his tone quite mild and amused.

Weasley gave him a startled look as he nodded to his wife. "He's right. We'd all be lost without you. Me most of all."

"Thank you," she said quietly, taking Weasley's hand and smiling up at him.

Merlin, they were disgustingly sweet, Snape thought, turning to look at Granger. She took her cue.

"This is my husband, Thomas Smythe," Granger said with an obvious proud smile.

"A pleasure to see you again, sir," Smythe held out his hand. He looked nervous.

Taking it, Snape inclined his head. "And you, Mr. Smythe. Ravenclaw, correct? Three years ahead of the trio here?"

Smythe's eyes widened. "I'm surprised you remember me."

Smiling slightly, Snape put his hands in his pockets. "I remember all my outstanding students. What are you doing now?"

Both Granger and Smythe looked pleased. "I work for the Institute of Muggle-Wizard relations," Smythe said.

"Impressive." Snape actually meant that. Smythe had done very well for himself. "I understand it is one of the finest wizard think tanks in Britain, if not all of Europe."

Flushing slightly, Smythe nodded. "Yes sir."

One of the things that Snape had learned over many years and a few hard lessons was that you could insult a person viciously, and they would take it, but if you were stupid enough to insult their beloved spouse you made a deadly enemy for life. He was many things, but stupid was not amongst them.

With the niceties finally over, he gave Potter an assessing look. The brat cleaned up well, he decided with some annoyance. Potter looked handsome in his dark green robes, which Snape noticed, were very nearly the same color as his own. "Potter."

"Headmaster," Potter inclined his head politely and then looked at Weasley. "Are we set up at the ball yet?"

Weasley nodded. "We've got six agents on the outside and eight in the ballroom."

"I believe I've mentioned that I'm not the Minister of Magic," Snape said lightly, but the idea that that much security might be needed was more than a little disconcerting.

Potter's glare said he disagreed. "It's standard precautions. We're not going to be by your side the entire night. We need to make sure you're watched."

"Why not?"

Weasley snorted. "Do you want company if you step outside for a breath of air. Or would you'd like one of us to accompany you to the loo?"

Snape inclined his head, conceding the point.

"Shall we go?" Harry asked.

Snape nodded.

* * *

"You know," Potter said, after the clamor of their arrival and the first retrieval of drinks. "Everyone thinks this is a genuine date. It will be in all the papers tomorrow morning."

"As well they should. No doubt, they are all waiting for the Boy Who Lived to settle down." He didn't want to consider why the idea of Potter settling down made his stomach clench so tightly.

"All I need do is appear with someone, and the press will have an engagement announcement pending." Potter looked out at the crowd, disgust clear in his eyes. "I'm sure you will read all about ours tomorrow in the Prophet."

"That _is_ why I'm here with you tonight." Snape tossed back the last of his drink.

"True enough." After a last sip, Potter set his glass on the table and stood, giving him a smile. "Can I get you another?"

"Are you drinking?" Snape wondered if he needed fortification.

"Soda," Potter said quite primly. "I would never drink on duty."

Of course he wouldn't, Snape thought with a grimace. Potter considered himself too much of a professional to even consider it. Truth be told, Snape should have realized that before he'd asked. "I'll have a whisky."

"A Muggle drink? I wouldn't have expected that from you." For some reason, Potter seemed to find that amusing.

"Who do you think invented it? Make it a double, if you please."

"Sure." Potter disappeared into the crowd, and Snape looked at the dance floor. Weasley and Granger were both dancing with their spouses. Glancing around the crowded room, Snape tried to pick out the agents he knew. He only recognized one from the detail at his house.

"Headmaster?" The voice came from behind him and Snape turned to find one of the teachers from Hogwarts approaching with a pretty witch in a low cut robe on his arm. "Professor Deveraux. How are you?"

Deveraux smiled at him. "Very well, sir. I'm surprised to see you here tonight."

"I'm not sure how I could refuse to put in an appearance, especially given that Hogwarts benefits greatly from the ball." Snape glanced around and was relieve to spot Potter returning. "Besides which, my date wished to attend."

"Severus, your drink," Potter said, handing him the glass, his full lips curling up sweetly enough for Snape to feel it in his gut. Potter glanced pointedly at the couple.

It took Snape a second to tear his thoughts away from Potter's mouth to understand what he wanted. "Ah, yes. Harry Potter. This is Daniel Deveraux." He paused long enough to allow Deveraux to give the witch's name. When he did not, Snape went on, "He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts."

Potter smiled and held out his hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, professor."

As he shook hands with Potter, Deveraux returned the smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Snape had thought Deveraux an amicable fellow, but he clearly didn't like Potter. His estimation of Deveraux went down a notch.

They spoke for a few moments. The conversation reached a natural lull, and Deveraux took the hint. He and the witch he'd never bothered to introduce walked away.

"That was odd. As far as I can remember, I've never met him before." Potter sat down, looking bewildered.

"You expect everyone to like you on sight?" It also bothered him that Deveraux had judged Potter without knowing him. That it did bothered him even more.

"I don't expect anyone to like me on sight, but I do expect to be given a fair chance. I hate it when people make assumptions about me without knowing me." Potter sounded as if it happened on a regular basis.

"You would never do that, of course." For many years, indeed, even to this day, Snape felt he was constantly judged by his past mistakes. Over time, he had grown used to it. Potter didn't even have the excuse of having made a disastrous mistake in his youth. No, all he'd done was save their world.

Potter shook his head, annoyance flashing across his face. "No I wouldn't. At least, not without a good reason."

"Bah. You make assumptions all the time." Snape knew he shouldn't bait Potter, except that he enjoyed watching him sputter. "Close your mouth, Harry."

Potter's eyes widened at the use of his given name.

Leaning close, he put his lips near Potter's ear and spoke in a low tone. "We're on a date, remember."

A shiver ran through Potter's body and Snape smiled, pleased with the slightly glazed look. It wasn't nice to tease, but then, Snape never said he was nice. Besides, he found it difficult to resist baiting Potter.

After a second, Potter seemed to rouse himself. He lifted his glass in mock salute. "Your point."

"Are we keeping score?" Severus asked, bringing his own drink to his lips. He held Potter's eyes as he drank.

"I'm not sure it's a game either of us could win. Do you want to dance?" Potter glanced out at the crowded floor.

"Do you know how?" It was a half-hearted insult at best.

"Would I have asked if I didn't?" Potter held up a hand before he could answer. "Never mind. Let's dance."

"Since you asked so nicely, I should be honored. However, I lead." Snape rose slowly, straightening his robes and allowed a bit of anticipation to move into him. He loved to dance and so very rarely got the opportunity.

"I've danced with men before." Pointedly, Potter glanced up at him. As a general rule, when two wizards danced, the taller led.

"Do you want to lead?" Snape could not believe he asked that, but he suspected Potter would find it hard to follow.

"No. I'm sure you're better at it. Most of my partners have been taller than me." Potter didn't look at all disturbed by that.

With rather mixed emotions, Snape took Potter into his arms. Despite years of knowing him, Snape was surprised to see that Potter was at least six inches shorter than him. He'd never actually thought of Potter as short. No doubt due to the forcefulness of Potter's personality.

"Does being so short bother you?" Snape asked without thinking. He was too concerned with not pulling Potter against him.

"It's not something I can fix. Well, not easily. I can't fix the reason for being short, either." Potter shrugged, seemingly not bothered by it at all.

"It's not genetics," Snape remembered only too well how tall James Potter had been. Lily hadn't been short for a witch, either.

"Bad diet as a kid."

That carefully casual tone awakened a protective instinct that Snape usually reserved for his Slytherin students. "I hadn't realized your family was that poor."

"They weren't."

Snape felt an unpleasant sensation seeping into the pit of his stomach. "Then, why was your diet so poor?"

"You honestly don't know?" Potter studied him, looking skeptical.

"I know nothing about your childhood. What happened? How could you have had so bad a diet that it affected your growth?" Snape asked, something inside him telling him he wasn't going to like the answer.

Potter glanced away. "They never told you about the cupboard under the stairs?"

"What does it have to do with anything?" He'd thought they were talking about Potter's eating habits or lack thereof. The uncomfortable look on Potter's face made Snape's gut twist.

"It's where I slept until I was eleven." He said it matter of factly, as if it didn't bother him, but Snape knew it must have done. Even if it didn't bother Potter, it certainly bothered Snape.

Enough so that he barely managed not to tread on Potter's feet. "I hadn't known they abused you."

"I can't believe you didn't know. Everyone knew." Potter's tone said he wasn't sure if Snape were lying or not.

It annoyed Snape that Potter might think that he'd known and done nothing. "If everyone did know, they failed to inform me. Are you sure anyone actually knew?" It was something that would have been mentioned to him, at least at some point in the seven years that Potter was a student. "How could Albus have allowed that?"

"I've often wondered that myself." Potter had every right to be as bitter as he sounded. How could he not be?

"Did you never ask? You were hardly shy, even at eleven." The music changed to a waltz, and he changed direction and his steps to accommodate it.

Potter followed his lead without missing a step. "I didn't think to ask about that. But when I didn't want to go home over the summer, Dumbledore always made me go anyway."

"There was a very valid reason for you to be sent back there each summer. And you knew it, too." Snape felt a small amount of unwanted sympathy for Potter and how hard it must have been for him.

"I didn't know why until the end of my fifth year."

"The protection of your mother's love was very real. Very necessary." Snape knew it would have little meaning weighed against the abuse he'd suffered, but at the time, it had been important. It _had_ protected him.

"Yeah, too bad my aunt hated me," Potter snapped, his temper clearly starting to fray. He took a breath and seemed to try to pull back from it.

"What did they do to you?" What had he and the rest of the staff missed? He felt Potter shudder in his arms. "What did they do to you?" Snape asked again.

This time Potter looked up at him, and there was a world of bitterness in his eyes. "Aside from not feeding me? They--" Potter took a breath and glanced around. "No. This is too personal to discuss here."

"Will you tell me?" Snape found that he very much wanted to know what those Muggles had done to him.

"What good would it do?" Potter closed his eyes and when he opened them again, they were blank, all the crushing emotions gone. "I walked away from them before my last year at Hogwarts. I haven't seen them since."

"You've never thought about revenging yourself on them?" He felt Potter tremble.

"For years, I did. But after I left, I made sure they knew I was rich and well accepted in my life. And they couldn't touch me." Potter's smile was not pretty. "They have to live their lives. It's punishment enough."

"I would prefer a more tangible revenge." For another moment, Snape thought of all the ways to arrange something awful to happen to those Muggles, but his days of allowing himself more than a moment's contemplation were over.

"It's not as if they actually did me any lasting harm. I survived not being loved. I grew up. I have my own life." Potter stopped dancing and looked at him. "It's rather like passing my NEWTs with an outstanding, don't you think? The end justifying the means."

With that, Potter pulled completely out of his arms and walked away.

Feeling like he'd been slapped, Snape stood still for a count or two, wondering where it had gone wrong. He made his way back to the group still considering it.

Both Granger and Weasley looked up questioningly when he got to the table sans Potter, but he shrugged. He certainly wasn't going to discuss it with them, though he supposed that they likely knew a great deal more about it than he did. With a sigh, he drank down the rest of his watery whisky, not even tasting it.

A few minutes later, Potter returned, looking embarrassed. "I apologize. That was intolerably rude. I hope you'll forgive me," Harry said with a chivalrous bow. "May I have this dance?"

Part of Snape wanted to turn him down flat for leaving like that, but he wanted an explanation. That, and a gallant Potter was damned hard to resist. "Will you finish it this time?" Snape asked, standing.

"I promise." Potter held out his arm and Snape took it.

The music was slower, more intimate and called for a closer embrace. Potter slid into his arms, easily. Although he knew he probably shouldn't, Snape laid his chin against Potter's temple and let the music soothe him. The heat of Potter's body warmed Snape down the length of his body and he leaned into it a little more. Holding Potter was a temptation that he found impossible to resist.

Snape wanted him, wanted to touch, to kiss, to.... No, he told himself sternly, this was not something he was going to allow. Potter was meant for better things.

"I'm sorry about going off like that," Potter murmured against his shoulder. "I can't talk about my childhood with the Dursleys rationally."

"I would say I understand, but I don't. As bad as my childhood was, I was fed and I knew my mother loved me." Snape wondered at his ability to tell Potter things that were none of his business, and even worse that he wanted to say more and had to restrain himself.

"I'm sure my parents loved me. Unfortunately, neither Petunia nor Vernon Dursley did." Potter sighed and lifted his head. "I'm sorry."

"For what this time?" Snape had the worst urge to push the messy fringe out of Potter's eyes. He resisted it for a moment, and then gave in, resting his hand on Potter's smooth cheek.

"For acting like a fool. For not being a professional. For any number of things." Potter sounded as if he were chastising himself, but he closed his eyes and leaned into Snape's touch.

"Perhaps, if you're already behaving badly, this won't count." Snape could no longer ignore the temptation. He leaned down, brushing his lips against Potter's. Then he quickly pulled away, cursing himself silently for his weakness.

Potter looked up at him, desire sweeping across his face and triggering an equally intense wave of longing in Snape. Strong enough to compel him to go back for a second, more demanding kiss.

"Oh, God." Potter leaned up to press his smooth, moist lips to Snape's.

Snape closed his eyes, letting the delightful sensations roll through him. Merlin, it was utterly luscious and soft. Far more so than he could have or would have imagined. Potter's mouth molded to his perfectly, opening, his tongue darting out to lick at Snape's lips. Snape shuddered.

He pulled back and Potter murmured a protest. Snape could not help smiling. Greedy, wasn't he?

With his hand resting against Potter's cheek, Snape held him still and pressed his mouth in again, gathering Potter closer to him. Potter tightened his arms, leaning further into Snape, and moaning again. Still moving to the music, Snape's finger's twined in Potter's hair, as his tongue slid out to coax Potter's mouth open again.

Potter laughed against his mouth, his full lips mouthing along Snape's. "Oh, yes."

If he could have spoken, Snape would have agreed, but he was fully occupied with kissing Potter's mouth. Which was sweeter than he'd expected, truthfully, almost sweeter than he could bear. With an awful certainty, Snape knew he would be ruined for all others with just these few kisses. It should have scared him, terrified him, but he exalted in his ruination, and the sheer bliss of kissing Potter.

Reluctantly, he pulled back. They were making a spectacle of themselves and while he supposed some of it wasn't a bad thing. He also knew that if he allowed it to go on much longer, he'd be in danger of creating a scandal. As it was, he'd be the butt of endless speculation about Potter and the romances in his life. "I'm sorry," Snape said, looking down into Potter's disappointed face.

"No. I'm sorry. We can't...I can't... do this now. It's wrong. I must pay attention." Potter gave him a sad smile and touched his mouth with one finger. "You are the worst distraction I've ever known."

Hurt for no reason, Snape knew he had to get off the floor. "You're right, of course. We should not be doing this at all." He bowed slightly to Potter, turning on his heel and walking away.

* * *

Outside, Snape leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths of the warm moist air. Kissing Potter had been sublime, every bit as luscious as he'd imagined it would be. Without much effort, he knew he could lose himself so easily in that passion, that purity of spirit, that...

"Headmaster," Deveraux's voice cut through his reverie. "Are you well, sir?"

"I'm fine." With his emotions in an uproar, Snape was not in the mood to make small talk, especially not with one of his professors who didn't approve of his date.

"I hadn't realized you were such good friends with Harry Potter." Deveraux's tone was perfectly flat, no inflection as he lit a Muggle cigarette. Snape could hear the subtle and unwarranted censure.

It irritated him that because he was headmaster at Hogwarts, the world thought they could dictate his actions. "I hadn't realized it mattered, one way or another," Snape ground out, controlling his tone with some effort. "It really isn't any of your concern."

"No, of course not." His cheeks flushing, Deveraux looked down. "I was simply curious."

"Why would it matter whom I dated?"

"As I said, no reason at all. I was surprised." Deveraux was lying and Snape knew it. For whatever reason, it _did_ matter to him.

"You don't like Harry?" Snape asked, now more interested. He hadn't met that many people who actually disliked the brat, well, people who weren't Death Eaters or Voldemort supporters.

"I don't know him. Except by reputation." Clearly, Deveraux had not cared for what he'd heard.

"You are correct that you do not know him." There was some part of him that wanted to defend Potter against all detractors, and much to his chagrin, he wasn't able to step on the impulse.

"There's usually some amount of truth in most rumors. Or so I've found." Deveraux took another puff of his cigarette and then threw it onto the terrace floor, grinding it with his boot heel. "Nasty habit, I know."

"Repulsive habit. It's certainly not one shared by many wizards." Snape glanced down at the still smoking butt with disgust.

Deveraux kicked it into the planter. "My father was a Muggle and he smoked. I picked the habit up at an early age. I'm afraid I've been unable to break it."

"There are probably wizard cures for that," Snape said, wondering if there actually were. "You might speak to Madam Pomfrey when you return to school."

"Are there?" Deveraux asked, raising an eyebrow. "Despite all the years in the wizarding world, I'm still taken aback by some of the things possible."

Snape wasn't sure what to say to that. The whole conversation was playing wrong in his gut. He would have walked away, except he wasn't quite ready to encounter Potter after their dance.

Silence trickled by slowly.

"I should get back inside and find my date." Deveraux nodded to him.

For a few more minutes, Snape considered whether or not he should return to the ballroom or simply Apparate home. If he chose the latter, he'd probably send Potter and company into a tailspin. That might be fun, just for the novelty, but it would be stupid to leave himself vulnerable no matter how much the pettiness of it might appeal to him.

Before he could decide on what he should do, the door opened again, and this time, disappointingly, Ron Weasley came out.

"What do you want?" Snape asked sharply. The last thing he wanted was to trade barbs with Weasley.

"To find you. You've been gone long enough for people to start noticing," Weasley said, looking like he was trying hard to control his temper.

"Not that it's any of your concern, but I needed some air." Snape sneered at him.

"It's my concern when I'm protecting you, damn it." Weasley took a breath, visibly forcing himself to relax.

"Why not send my date out? He's supposed to be protecting me, if it's actually needed." Snape would rather deal with Potter.

"He's been looking for you, too." Weasley took his mobile out of his pocket and pressed some numbers. "Harry? I found him."

There was a pause, presumably for Potter to acknowledge it. "Yeah, out on the veranda."

Another pause and then Weasley chuckled. "No. I'll stay with him." He closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

Something about the conversation raised Snape's hackles. Nearly everything Weasley said and did annoyed him, but this particularly bothered Snape. "This isn't a real date, Weasley. He should be out here."

"It's looked real to me." Weasley folded his arms against his chest and glared. "Give it up, Headmaster. I know you both care about each other."

True though it might be, he had no intention of admitting it to Weasley, and certainly not before he admitted it to Potter. "I think this is a highly inappropriate discussion."

Weasley inclined his head, but his eyes showed his impatience. "You're right, of course. I apologize."

Merlin, Snape hated that obsequiousness tone. They all used it, too. "Go back inside. I shall return to the ballroom in a moment."

"I'll wait for you." Leaning against the wall, Weasley made it seem as if it were no bother and that he would be happy to wait all night if Snape so chose.

"Do as you please." Snape pointedly turned his back and looked out into the gardens, but saw nothing moving in the dim magical lights. With a sigh, he realized he was not going to make his point this way. He turned to go back in.

Before he could take a step, Snape felt something hit him just below his shoulder. He sucked in a gasp of pain. Fuck that hurt.

"I--" He tried to say something, but couldn't get the words out. The world started to gray out, and his knees weren't able to support him anymore.

* * *

Part 5

"How is he?" Harry asked, as Ron came into the sitting room.

"He's fine. Or as fine as he ever is. The knife wound was simple for the Medi-wizard to heal." Ron sat down next to him on the sofa. "How are you?"

"I wasn't the one stabbed with a knife tonight." Harry shuddered. Seeing Snape injured had shaken him on a fundamental level.

Even though he'd wanted to go with Snape to hospital, he'd stayed at the ball and handled the investigation. That was their standard operating procedure. But, leaving Snape's care to anyone else, even Ron and Hermione, had cut Harry deeply.

Logically, he knew there had been nothing else he could do for Snape. He'd wanted to prove to himself that he could be that much of a professional.

"I saw you and Snape kissing while you danced." Ron met his eyes with sympathy and understanding. "I know how you feel about him."

"Ron, everyone saw me kissing Snape tonight. That was the point. We were supposed to be on a date." That kiss had been incredible, he'd wanted to sink into Snape and never come out again. "I know I probably shouldn't have been doing it. Do you want me to resign?"

Ron gave him an exasperated look. "Don't be a prat. You're not resigning. We can't afford to buy you out, anyway."

If he'd felt any better about this, he'd have laughed. "That's ridiculous. Either of you can well afford it, and you know it."

"We don't want to. Harry, give yourself a break. No, you probably shouldn't have been kissing a client while working -- not like that, anyway. However, we make the rules, and we can do what we want with them."

"It's unethical." Harry sighed at Ron's amused look. "It is. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Come on, Harry. Of course you do." Ron's tone was all too knowing.

"I know what you're thinking, but it can't be true. I mean, it's Snape. I'm not...I don't feel that way about him." Harry refused to put the confusion he felt down to that. It just didn't seem...right somehow. Snape was their client. Nothing more.

"I think you do. And I think you need to accept that." Ron was being surprisingly difficult about this.

It wasn't helping Harry convince himself. "I can't possibly think of anything like that before this case is over and we've got whomever it is that's trying to kill him."

"If it makes you feel any better, I doubt I would have acted any different if I were trying to guard Suzette." Ron put his hand on Harry's arm.

"Oh, Christ. I'm not--" Harry thought about it for a moment and then put his face in his hands. It wasn't true. "I'm not ready for this."

"I don't think it's going to matter whether you're ready or not. You need to accept it."

"Not right now." Because the implications were more than Harry could bear. He straightened his spine and cleared his throat. "I want to meet again with everyone who was on duty tonight, first thing in the morning. Who's on tonight?"

"Davis is on tonight. You've already been over it with the team. No one knows how the perpetrator got through the wards. The back garden was secure from the street inward."

For a moment, Harry considered all the evidence again. Frustratingly, nothing stuck out as inherently wrong. "The thrower had to have been at the party."

"That makes sense. Unfortunately, there were four hundred or more people at the party, not to mention staff and house elves."

"Someone slipped out of the ballroom and threw that knife." Harry felt a shudder go through him just thinking about it. "It takes a special kind of skill to do that."

"It does, unless they cast a spell to make the throw accurate." Ron regarded him carefully, looking even more concerned.

"Even that takes a certain level of skill most wizards simply don't have."

Ron's brow creased thoughtfully. "We'll need to have the knife tested."

Harry nodded, his mind still trying to sort through the facts.

"You look almost as bad as Snape does."

With an exhausted sigh, Harry stood up. "I'm going to check on him and then go to sleep."

Ron stood, too and put a hand on Harry's arm, squeezing once. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Thanks." Harry said, heading for the stairs.

* * *

Snape settled into one of the comfortable chairs in front of the unlit fireplace. He was tired, but too tense to relax. His mind refused to let the events of the evening go and he kept replaying them, feeling the sickening impact of the knife into his flesh.

His shoulder ached. At least the medi-wizard had done a good job and no doubt even that would be gone by morning.

It was hardly the first time someone wanted him dead and tried to accomplish it bodily. Had he forgot about Voldemort and the tortures he'd inflicted?

Light spilled across the dim room, and Severus looked up to chastise whoever was so rude as to invade his privacy.

Oh, he should have known. Only Potter would be so inconsiderate.

"Go away," Snape said, his tone cold with disdain. At Potter's worried look, he added, "I'm fine."

Despite what Snape had said, Potter came into the room, glancing at him with unconcealed concern. "You don't sound fine to me. You should be in bed."

Perhaps his tone did have a bit of a tremor to it. Snape was sure it was just exhaustion. It had been a long stressful day. "Are you calling me a liar?" Snape asked, sneering at him.

Undaunted, Potter looked so disgustingly well-meaning. "I'm saying it's okay to admit you're not quite fine."

That comforting solicitousness irritated Snape no end. Indeed, he was ready to slap him for saying such a stupid thing. "Get out. Now," he spat. "I don't want you here."

Potter shook his head stubbornly.

Merlin, could that brat never do what was asked of him?

"I'm worried about you."

Hoping to calm his ready-to-explode temper, Snape took a breath and counted to five, then let it out very slowly. "As I have told you many times now, I don't need a minder."

"I'm not saying you do. Just that maybe you don't want to be alone right now."

How had he known that, Snape wondered, disgusted with himself because it was true, and with Potter for knowing it. "Why on earth would you think that?"

"Oh, I don't know, perhaps because someone tried to kill you for the third time?" Potter snapped, his patience seeming to start to wear thin.

An unpleasant shudder passed through Snape, as he tried to breathe around his own fears. "I know what happened. I was there."

"Each time the attempt has come a little closer." Potter reached across the distance between them, and took Snape's hand. "I know--"

"You know nothing, Potter." As much as Snape wanted to pull away, to send Potter packing, he didn't. He sat there and let him hold his hand, trying to tell himself it wasn't comforting.

"Tell me, then. I want to help you." Potter whispered softly, stroking his thumb along Snape's palm.

"You can't. Don't you realize that you can't?" He tried to hide his humiliating fear, and could see by the solemn look on Harry's face that he hadn't.

"I can. If you let me help. I want to." Keeping a hold of Snape's hand, and with his eyes full of compassion, Harry moved to kneel beside Snape's chair.

"I want you to leave." Snape knew with bitter certainty that the kind of help Potter was offering would make him weak, would make him soft. That scared him more than whoever was trying to kill him.

Potter didn't listen. He reached out slowly, his hand moving along Snape's shoulders, pulling him into his arms. "It's okay."

For some reason, and really Snape didn't understand it, he allowed himself to be drawn into Harry's embrace. Worse yet, he gave in to the temptation and laid his head on Harry's shoulder. Snape sighed softly, closing his eyes against how good it felt. "You're going to destroy me."

"Shhh.... I'm going to save you," Harry said into his hair.

Snape felt those soft words like a hammer to his gut. He wanted to believe in them and knew that if he did, he'd be lost. "You can't."

"I can and I will." Harry tightened his arms.

For several long moments, Harry held him in silence, stroking comfortingly along his back. Snape wanted to pull away, to not let this happen, to not let Harry make him weak. Even as he dammed himself for the need, there was no denying how good it felt to be held.

A disconcerting trembling started deep inside him, as if he were cold. Snape knew with bitter certainty that he had to reject what Harry was offering, to push him away and save himself, but he could not manage it.

One last time, he made an effort to still the shaking. Unless he wanted to disgrace himself completely, he had to pull away. He opened his mouth to tell Harry to leave again, but something else came out. "I have faced death many times. Not that long ago, I would have welcomed it as a release from my burdens."

Harry rubbed his back. "But now?"

"Now I find, to my complete disbelief, that I don't want to die." Even if it were true, it sounded pitiful to say it out loud. His mind was screaming in horror that he was leaving himself open to ridicule, leaving himself vulnerable to being attacked.

"Most people don't want to die," Harry said softly, fingers starting to card through his tangled hair.

"Most people haven't lived through what I've lived through. I've grown too comfortable, too soft. I don't know how to fight anymore." Snape closed his eyes again and pressed his head against Harry's shoulder, completely ignoring the voice in his head that said he would pay dearly for this comfort.

"As I've told you before, you shouldn't have to fight this battle. You've fought enough battles in your life."

He pulled back a little. "Potter, you simply don't understand. I don't deserve peace. This is wrong."

"It's not wrong for you to have peace. You've paid for your crimes."

As he tried to move away again, Harry held him tighter. "I will never have paid completely. Please. Just let it go. Let me go," Snape told him, his voice harsh and bitter.

"This is the wrong time for this. I need to protect you. Nothing is more important than that." Harry closed his eyes and then opened them to meet Snape's.

Looking into Harry's eyes, he knew that Harry had meant what he said. But that didn't make it right, even if it did give him a warm feeling in his chest. "There are a hundred reasons why this is wrong and shouldn't happen."

"None of them count." As Harry slipped his hand onto Snape's cheek, he smiled tenderly.

The look sent another glow of warmth through Snape. He tried to tell himself that he was a fool to believe in anything, but his heart wasn't listening anymore. "They do to me."

Harry kissed him. His lips molded perfectly to Snape's. As always when he was dealing with Harry, he could not help but kiss back with everything that was inside him. Eagerly, he opened his mouth to Harry's tongue, allowing it to slide in and touch his, coaxing him to touch back. The sweetness was addictive, like a drug. Snape knew he'd crave it forever.

Pulling Harry closer, Snape gave in to the enticement without a fight. He slid his hands down Harry's muscular back. Merlin, he tasted sweet and rich and luscious. Snape pulled back just a bit to look into Harry's sparkling eyes. Seeing the affection, the desire there, he leaned in to press small kisses to Harry's lips. Groaning, Harry pulled him closer, kissing him deeper, harder, desire starting to rise in Snape.

With a sigh that sounded like regret, Harry pulled back. "I'm so sorry. I want to, but we can't do this now."

Disappointment and the inevitability of disaster washed over Snape, not quite dousing the desire Harry had flamed in him, but blunting the edge enough to think. Snape didn't trust his voice so he nodded, still unable to pull away from the warmth of Harry's arms. For one more moment, Snape buried his head against Harry's shoulder and breathed in the lush smell of him. Then, only because he had no choice, he forced himself to pull away. "You're correct, Potter. We should not be doing this at all."

Harry pushed a length of Snape's hair behind his ear and leaned in again for a quick soft kiss. "I wish I could stay with you tonight," Harry said, standing and offering his hand to Snape.

Snape did not want to contemplate how much that appealed to him. He took Harry's hand and allowed himself to be led to his bed. "I'm hardly a child. I don't need to be tucked in."

As Snape settled into his bed, Harry plumped his pillows, and smoothed his sheets, before pulling the duvet up from the foot of the bed. "Maybe not, but I want to. Indulge me?"

"Haven't I done that enough already?" Snape pursed his lips, attempting to look as irritated as he wanted to feel.

The affectionate smile on Harry's face said he'd failed in the attempt. With one last, soft kiss, Harry said, "Sleep well."

Snape couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

* * *

Hermione and Ron looked up as Harry came down the stairs. Just as well they were both here now, he'd rather not have to say it twice.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked her tone heavy with concern. "You should be asleep."

He sat down beside her on the sofa. "I can't sleep." Harry paused and then forced the words out. "My feelings for Severus are ... getting in the way of my judgment."

"Harry--" Hermione started to say.

Harry cut her off. "Let me get this said." He took a breath. "I could barely keep my mind on the interviews and dealing with what happened tonight.

"It's understandable. You were worried. We know that." Even though both she and Ron knew his behavior was less than professional, she was going to excuse it.

He couldn't let her do it. Loyalty was fine and Harry cherished it from both of them, but there were other factors at work here. There was no forgiving how unprofessional his actions were. "I was frantic. I can't seem to help my feelings for him. I also can't leave him now."

"We've already been through this," Ron said, and Harry could hear the same thing in his voice that had been in Hermione's.

"I know we have, but.... I'm too emotionally involved to be effective on this case. All the excuses in the world aren't going to change that. The bottom line is that I'm a liability." Harry hung his head. He'd never expected to reach this point. What had Snape done to him? Nothing he hadn't actively participated in, he acknowledged. Nothing he didn't still want.

"It's late. We should talk about this in the morning," Hermione said, standing. She had that look in her eyes that said she didn't want to deal with this now and there would be no swaying her from that position.

"We can put it off if you want, but it won't change the facts." Harry was glad to have told them, even it meant he left the firm. He looked at Hermione and something else clicked in his mind. "What are you doing here, anyway? It _is_ late."

"I'm only checking on the Headmaster," she said in such a way that he knew she was lying and that she wasn't trying to hide it.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, his mind going over all the reasons that she could be here and none of them could be good.

"I was worried about you, all right?" She sounded both defensive and belligerent as if she expected to be chastised for caring about him.

He appreciated her concern as much as he did her loyalty. There was more coming and it worried him that she wasn't saying it outright. "You couldn't firecall to find out?"

With a sigh, she sat back down next to Harry and pulled a couple of pages of parchment out of her briefcase. "I wanted to talk to one of you. I told you earlier that the background checks on the Hogwarts teachers are bothering me. I keep going over the information and thinking that I must have missed something, but I can't figure out what it is."

"Like a puzzle," Ron suggested, taking one of the parchments and glancing at it. "The pieces don't fit right?"

"Yes, exactly." Hermione smiled slightly, still distracted by the piece of paper she was reading.

Alert now, Harry folded his arms across his chest and prompted, "Go on, tell us about it."

"It's something to do with Daniel Deveraux's background. At first glance-- hell, at second glance, it looks fine. But something is nagging at me."

"What? This doesn't make much sense." Ron handed her back the sheet, seemingly ill at ease, probably reacting to Hermione's mood.

She looked first at Ron and then at him. "I want to see if I can come up with something on the computer."

"You can't summon ministry records?" Ron asked.

"I have. They check out. I'm thinking it might be something else. His father was a Muggle. I'm going back to the office--"

"At this time of night? Wouldn't you be more alert in the morning?" Harry asked even as he knew it would do no good to argue with her about it. She wouldn't sleep until she'd worked whatever problem it was out.

"Yes, she said, standing and picking up her cloak. She walked the fireplace and took some of the floo powder. "Hermione's office," she said and she was gone.

"We'll talk more in the morning." Ron stood, too. "I'll take the room next to yours."

"Okay, then. Tomorrow." Harry stood, too. "I'm going to try and sleep." Not that he had much hope that he would be able to do so.

* * *

Late the following morning, Hermione, Ron and Harry met in the sitting room. Hermione's eyes were red from lack of sleep, and while he hadn't worked all night, Harry was sure he looked much the same way. He felt like he'd taken a tumble off his broom from a high altitude and there had been no one to cushion the fall. "What did you find?"

"A lot, actually." She looked the same as she had in school when she'd made a major discovery. "It started with an English boy named Jacob Francis whose parents were killed in a house fire and who went to live with his Muggle uncle, David Deveraux and his cousin, Daniel, in France."

"That sounds familiar," Ron said, taking a sip of his tea. He looked like he'd got only slightly more sleep than either Harry or Hermione.

"Not as much as you might think. Both boys were wizards and went to Beauxbaton. Sometime after their seventh year, the uncle and Jacob died in a car accident." Hermione pulled a piece of parchment out of her briefcase. "Daniel inherited his father's estate, and went on to study defense. Eventually, he became the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for Hogwarts."

Harry felt like his mind was wrapped in cotton wool. He wondered what he'd missed. "We know this, don't we?"

A very self-satisfied grin on her face, Hermione slowly shook her head. "Except that it wasn't Jacob who died in the car crash, it was Daniel."

"Oh?" Ron's eyes widened with surprise. "How did you figure that out? And why didn't anyone else know?"

"Jacob and Daniel looked very similar. As Snape said, we don't check fingerprints, we know or ask, or can read a magical signature. The Muggles didn't have any way of telling that Jacob was not Daniel because they lived between the two worlds. We depend too much on our sense of things rather than hard facts. Even though David Deveraux was a Muggle, he was married to a witch and produced a wizard child." Hermione went on, "Also, Jacob's parents were purebloods related to Lucius Malfoy, so there were no Muggle records for him. At least, to start with."

"Bloody Hell," Harry said and stood up to get a coffee from the sideboard. He desperately needed the influx of caffeine and tea wasn't going to cut it this morning.

"Yes. I've notified the Ministry. They're going to question him." Hermione looked up at that, her expression quite annoyed.

"Question, not arrest?" Ron seemed even more aggravated. "I hate to say how little that surprises me."

"All of this is my suspicion, and they can't actually prove it or that he's done anything wrong. Unless they discover that he actually killed his uncle and cousin. To do that they need to question him under Veritaserum." Hermione sounded bitter, and Harry couldn't blame her. She'd had one too many run-ins with the MLE on this case.

"What about posing as his cousin? I think that's against the law, even here," Harry said, sarcastically. Sometimes the MLE made no sense to him.

"I'm sure it is, but they only have my word on this. I floo'ed them the papers this morning, but they insist on investigating it themselves. I'm not an Auror, after all." She said it mimicking whatever officious person she'd spoken to that morning.

"Why don't we go and have a nice chat with Mr. Deveraux ourselves?" Ron drew himself up to his full height and smiled dangerously.

"Yes, why don't you?" Deveraux said, coming into the room holding a Muggle handgun.

"How did you get in here?" Ron's tone was perfectly conversational, as if someone broke through the wards and got past their guards on a regular basis. Harry was proud of his aplomb.

"I walked in." Deveraux had a puzzled expression on his face, as if he wasn't sure exactly how he'd gotten in.

"Right through the wards?" Harry's own fear held at bay by the adrenaline, he looked at Deveraux, trying to gauge what he was thinking. Usually something was given away, but even with all of his instincts on high alert, Harry wasn't getting much from Deveraux: a bit of confusion, anger, bitterness.

"I just came on through as if I were invited." His tone seemed far from certain and his eyes were glazed.

"How?" Those wards had been reinforced by himself and Ron. It should have taken a team of highly trained Aurors several hours to get through them. He couldn't believe they hadn't held. Deveraux wasn't that strong a wizard.

"You're the security wizards. You figure it out." Deveraux's tone was scornful.

"Why don't you tell us? I'd really like to know." Harry made it sound like a special request, which he'd found worked to distract, sometimes.

"I'm sure you would like that, but I'm not going to tell you." Deveraux pointed the gun at Harry. "I'd rather you retrieved Snape for me."

"You do know we're not going to do that, don't you?" As much as he could, given his fear for Snape and the adrenaline running through him, Harry kept his tone gentle, polite, no aggression at all. He didn't want to do anything that would set Deveraux off.

"Do you want to die for that filthy traitor?" Deveraux's tone went from wooden to savage in the blink of an eye.

"If need be," Harry said, feeling sweat start to prickle unpleasantly on his back and under his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron step closer to Deveraux.

"You'll never get away with killing him," Hermione said, her hand slowly reaching for her wand. She might not have been an Auror, but she was well trained in self-defense.

"It doesn't matter. I just want him dead. He ruined my life." Deveraux tightened his grip on his weapon. "Get him. Now."

"How? How did he ruin your life?" Harry knew that to keep him talking was to keep him distracted. Ron was in position to move.

"The Dark Lord promised..." Deveraux trailed off and seemed to be thinking about it. He shook his head. "You couldn't understand what it was like with my Muggle uncle..."

"Sure I would. I can trade you stories about living with abusive relatives," Harry said sincerely, sympathetically, still trying to radiate calm with his heart in his throat. He wasn't sure how they'd gone from Voldemort to his uncle, but he rolled with it.

Deveraux sneered at him. "I know you're lying. You had it so easy. You're Harry bloody Potter."

"I grew up with Muggle relatives. I spent ten years with a cupboard for a bedroom. I know how bad it can be with them." Although he couldn't speak of those times without a repugnant wash of emotions, Harry hid what he felt behind a soothing tone, and an unruffled facade.

Deveraux was concentrating hard on him, shaking his head. "I don't believe you. Why would you defend them? How could you not support the Dark Lord?"

"Why would I lie?" Harry asked, putting all the honestly he could into his tone and the look he gave Deveraux. He really wasn't going to get into a philosophical discussion with Deveraux about Voldemort. Before he could say thing else, there was a noise on the stairs.

"You do realize I detest melodrama," Snape said with a perfectly vicious sneer.

Harry opened his mouth to yell at him to get out.

Before he could get the words out, Deveraux turned sharply, pointing the gun at Snape, and pulled the trigger.

"Accio Gun," Hermione shouted at the same time the gun fired. The bullet sped towards Snape, and he deflected it with his wand. The gun came to Hermione's outstretched hand.

"Pertrificus Totalus," Ron said, nearly on top of Hermione and Deveraux went stiff and fell over.

"That was almost too easy." Harry looked down at him and breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Don't complain. We needed to catch a break with this case. Let's just be grateful," Hermione said. "I'm glad it's over."

"We'd best assess the damage." Ron looked at Snape.

"I should think so," Snape said, wrapping his dressing gown more securely around him. He held out his wand. "Accio bullet." It fell into his hand.

"I'll need that." Ron held out his hand and for a second it looked like Snape might argue, but he simply sighed and dropped it into Ron's palm. "Why did you come down now?" Ron asked.

Snape gave them all an irritated look. "I felt Deveraux cross the wards."

"How? How did he get across the wards and how did he get in?" Hermione looked at him, her expression puzzled.

"He's a Hogwarts professor. The wards are set to allow them in." That Snape didn't seem to think this might cause a problem was inconceivable to Harry.

He took a deep breath, trying desperately to push back his temper. Snape was still the client, and he couldn't explode, no matter how stupid Snape had been.

Before Harry could think of anything to say that wouldn't be an outraged invective, Ron asked quietly, "You didn't think to mention this before?" The fury in his tone carried through the room.

Snape looked surprised by it.

"You could have been killed, coming down here like that. What on earth were you thinking?" A tremor went through Harry and he could not reign in his anger.

Snape had the grace to look embarrassed for a moment, before he sneered, "I wanted the situation resolved and since none of you were doing anything about it --"

"Don't say it," Ron cut him off, indignation radiating from him. "You neglected to mention a vital piece of information."

Harry could almost see the explosion building in Ron. He put a hand on his shoulder and felt Ron take a breath. "All right. Who else can cross your wards?"

Snape looked at them as if he still didn't understand why they were upset. "No one can do so without my knowing it. I could feel who it was as he crossed the front lawn."

"Why didn't you tell anyone that?" Ron demanded, his face red. "We spent two days working on those wards and you couldn't have mentioned there were people who could cross them?"

"You put yourself in danger like that --" Harry took over, no less angry than Ron, except that he was shaking from fear as well as rage.

"It was my choice," Snape said, his tone irate. He turned to Harry and glared. "I will thank you not to scold me in public."

Harry was speechless.

A look of shock crossed Ron's face and he opened his mouth and then closed it again. Disbelief still on his face, he went to the fireplace and placed a call to the Ministry.

Sitting down on the sofa, Snape sighed again. "I require tea, immediately."

Hermione pointed to the pot. "Help yourself."

For an hour, chaos reigned supreme. Ron supervised the departure of the last of their people and Hermione went home to bed.

Harry was left facing Snape across the sitting room, not quite sure what to say, his anger had faded, but the fear he felt reverberated through him. Berating Snape for being stupid would not do. "Well, it looks like it's over," Harry said, instead.

Snape nodded. "I'm quite pleased to hear that. Am I to understand that you never did find Draco Malfoy?"

"No. However we did discover that Deveraux is related to him through Lucius. I suspect that Draco is still out there. But I don't think he's involved."

"I hadn't known there were any French relatives on the Malfoy side."

"Actually, Deveraux wasn't French." Harry went on to explain about Jacob and his parents.

After Harry stopped talking, an awkward silence fell around them, and finally he couldn't stand it anymore. "I should get to my office and start doing the paperwork on this case."

"If you wish," Snape said sounding as if he didn't want Harry to go.

Harry sincerely hoped it were so. "I could stay, if you'd like."

Snape looked down at his tea and shook his head. "I..." He cleared his throat. "Would you care to have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

Delighted, Harry felt a smile stretch across his face. "Yes, of course. That would be lovely."

Snape didn't smile, but he did look pleased. "Good. Shall we meet at the gates of Hogwarts?"

Meeting at the school was surprising, but Harry didn't argue. "Anxious to get back to work?"

"I have a great deal to do before the term starts. Now it looks as if I'll have to find someone to replace Deveraux on top of all else." Snape paused and took a sip of his tea. "Less people will recognize you in Muggle London, I suspect. I was thinking of an Italian restaurant I've been to a few times. It's a bit fancy. Do you own a Muggle suit?"

Hermione had made sure he owned clothes for all occasions, both Muggle and wizard. "I'm sure I can find something."

"Seven tomorrow, then?"

"That would be great. I'm looking forward to it." He moved to the fireplace and reached for the floo power. "See you then," he said, casting the powder into the fire. "Harry's office."

* * *

"Harry?" Hermione's voice came from his fireplace. "Are you there?"

"Yes." He came out of the bathroom, with a towel around his shoulders, buttoning the top button on his trousers. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. I wanted to update you on the investigation," Hermione said, but her tone implied there might be more to it than that. "Can I come through?"

Harry moved back to give her room. "Come on, then."

She stepped through and dusted the ashes off her robes. She surveyed his bare chest, and wet hair. "Going somewhere?"

"I've got a date." He kept his tone flat, hoping he wouldn't give anything away. Usually, he wasn't so concerned about a simple date, but this was Snape and nothing was ever simple with him.

Her smile didn't dim, and Harry could see that she knew. "We could play twenty questions or you can tell me you've got a date with the Headmaster."

"I do." Harry couldn't keep his smile in check. He hoped that would hide his nervousness.

As if reading his mind, her expression turned concerned. "Oh, Harry. I know how you feel about him, but don't expect too much. You'll only be hurt."

"What do you know? I mean, I don't know how I feel about him so how could you?" He knew he was lying, and suspected she knew it too.

"You've really fallen for him, haven't you?" Hermione had that knowing and worried look on her face again.

As much as he appreciated it, and he did, there was no way he was going to answer that question. "I need to get dressed."

She blinked, but he saw the understanding in her eyes.

"I should probably help you with that since all of your taste is in your mouth." Chuckling, Hermione followed him into the bedroom. "Well, this is nice," she said, nodding towards the suit coat lying across his bed.

"You picked it out." Harry snorted, remembering the battle they'd had over it. It wasn't that he didn't like the suit -- he did. The problem had been that she hadn't given him a choice and that had annoyed him.

"Only because you're hopeless with clothes. What shirt are you going to wear with it?"

"I've been dressing myself for years." Still, he pulled a pale green oxford shirt out of the cupboard and held it up for her inspection.

"Good. It brings out the color of your eyes." She said it as if that mattered in the slightest to Harry.

When he finished dressing, he glanced at himself in the mirror and tried not to grimace. His hair was a disaster, even combing it wet and letting it dry would not make it lie flat. The paleness of his face was not particularly attractive and unfortunately, he looked every bit as nervous as he felt.

"Very handsome," Hermione said in counterpoint to his own view on the subject. There were a hundred denials that he could have used, but she wouldn't like it. "Thanks," he said simply.

"I hope it works out for you." Hermione's concern was balm to his jumpy nerves. She was silent for a moment, and then she said, "I know you don't want to hear this, but there's a reason he's been alone as long as he has. He's not a nice man. Not given to tenderness. And whatever you might say, you need that."

Snape wasn't easy to know, that much he'd give her, but that didn't negate the fact that, "He is a good man. A trustworthy man. I think I need that as well, perhaps even more." He straightened his tie, then added, "There's no use in speculating on the future. I'm just having dinner with him."

"I don't want to see you hurt. And I'm afraid that's going to happen with him." She seemed so certain, so unwilling to give it a chance to work. Part of Harry railed against that.

"Look, like I said, it's just dinner. Maybe there's a possibility for more later, but I'm not counting on it." That was a lie and worse, he suspected that she knew it.

She heard what he hadn't said, and nodded. "I need to get back to the office."

Which reminded him, "Why did you come by in the first place?"

"Oh," she said, shaking her head as if to clear it. "Deveraux has refused to say anything at all. Even in his own defense. They are threatening to send him to Azkaban to await trial."

"He could be there for a while is what you're saying?" The wizarding justice system needed an overhaul.

"I hope justice works quicker than that, but I don't think it will."

"Me neither." Harry sighed. "That wasn't the only reason you came by was it?"

Hermione looked down and he could see her face turning red. "You know me too well. Ron said you were talking about resigning?"

It was his turn to blush. "In the heat of the moment. Yeah. As I said last night, I don't think my performance on this case came close to being professional or ethical."

She sighed and didn't disgrace him by disagreeing. "There were some fairly extenuating circumstances."

"Like what?" Harry wasn't so quick to forgive himself as both Hermione and Ron seemed to be.

"Like your feelings for the Headmaster."

"As if that is an excuse." They both knew that it wasn't. Whatever his feelings for Snape were, they should not have entered into it.

"It is to me. All I have to do is put myself in your shoes. I don't think I could have done half so well." At his look, she shook her head. "Whether you want to admit you have feelings for the Headmaster of not, you still have them and they are still having an impact on you."

Harry hung his head. "I know. I wish I knew what to do about it."

"Whatever you decide, you're not going to talk about resigning again. I won't have it." She sounded just like she did in seventh year when she was the Head Girl and he suggested doing something that was against the rules.

Thinking about it made him smile.

Hermione took that for agreement. "Good."

"And if I don't?"

"Well...don't. I'm right. And you know I am."

Inclining his head, Harry conceded that she was. He could not bear the thought of not having daily contact with either her or Ron. "I don't want to resign. But that leaves me with the problem that I don't know what I'm going to do about Snape."

"I think you're going to go to dinner with him and have a nice time." It was clear she was trying to be supportive and Harry appreciated that. Even if it were also clear she was worried about his involvement.

"Right. I'd better get going then." Harry forced a smile.

"I'd better go as well. Have a good time tonight." She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

* * *

Part 6

At 6:57, Harry Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts. He turned to smile at Snape and for a moment, he was struck nearly speechless. Snape looked...amazing seemed too insignificant a word to describe him. The Muggle suit he was wearing looked to have been made for him and of very fine cloth, and it invited Harry's fingers to touch. It fit to perfection, showing off the breadth of his shoulders, the length of his legs and the narrowness of his hips.

And his hair. Harry sighed with longing. It was loose and straight, falling around his shoulders, and down his back in a gleaming fall of pitch black. It looked as if had been brushed for hours. Harry wanted to grab it up in both hands and bury his face in it.

Desire sliding over him like warm water, he had to clear his throat before he could speak. "How are you tonight, sir?"

"I'm fine, Potter. I'll Apparate us both since I know where we're going." His tone was brisk, but the look he slanted towards Harry held a visible amount of appreciation. For once, Harry was grateful for Hermione's taste, if not her bossiness about the suit.

At Harry's nod, Snape stepped close to him, taking his arm as he raised his wand.

They appeared in an alley, and Snape led them around the corner to a brightly lit restaurant. They were immediately shown to their table.

Snape handed him one of the menus. "The food here is excellent. The antipasto is done well for a starter."

The coolness in Snape's tone surprised Harry, and he wondered what had caused it. "That's fine. Whatever you'd prefer."

"Stop pouting as if I've insulted you in some way." Snape's tone had grown harsher.

All right, Harry thought, it was the first ten minutes and already it was not going well. He swallowed back his annoyance. "Actually, I was thinking I had said something to make you angry, but there hasn't been time."

Snape gave him a cold look. "As if your existence doesn't do that to start with."

"You're baiting me. The question is why. It makes no sense since you asked me out." Harry titled his head and looked at him. "Care to enlighten me?"

That met with silence and a raised eyebrow from Snape. Harry was starting to think this was a really bad idea. "Why did you ask me out?"

"Why not?" Snape shrugged carelessly as if it didn't matter to him at all. Maybe it didn't. "You seemed to want--"

"Don't blame this on me." Harry shook his head. His anger was directed at himself because he should have known better than to think anything with Snape would be simple or straightforward.

"Whom else would I blame?" Snape smirked. No doubt he enjoyed watching Harry squirm.

The man drove him mad and loved doing it, Harry decided, looking across at Snape again and hating the fact that he wanted to figure him out, even though Snape was being beastly. "For whatever reason, you asked me to dinner."

"So I did. I had something I wished to discuss with you." Snape made it sound so mysterious as if not only was it important but also a secret that he might or might not tell.

"What would that be? Because I can't wait to hear it." At least he sounded sarcastic rather than upset. Snape was rapidly becoming the ultimate test of his patience.

Snape picked up his menu and made a point of studying it. "It can wait until after we've eaten our meal."

That was just what Harry wanted to hear. He tried to tell himself that he didn't care, but he was lying. "Why don't you simply tell me whatever you wish to say and get it over with?"

"It's not something awful, quite the opposite. In fact, I believe that you will like it." Snape's tone was heading towards conciliatory without ever quite getting there.

Harry glanced at him, suspiciously, but Snape's expression had become what passed for pleasant with him.

Almost against his better judgment, Harry let himself relax. Maybe, just maybe, Snape did want to tell him something he'd like to hear. "All right. What do you recommend?"

"I think I've already made a few suggestions," Snape said, his tone not as harsh as it had been.

"Those are starters. What about the rest of the meal?" Harry decided he was hungry after all.

Dinner consisted of tense small talk, and longer periods of more strained silences. After the silence between them became too much, Harry had to say something to break it. "Have you heard from Mr. Bennett about the potion yet? I know that Remus will be following your published research closely."

"No doubt he will. And I'm not sure why you would care, but I had an owl from Marcus right before I met you tonight." Snape did not sound at all pleased by this.

"Is everything all right?"

"Since I had no time to actually read the letter, I have no idea."

Perhaps that explained Snape's sour mood. Or it could just be Snape. "Does he teach, then?"

"Why would you think that?" Snape's expression was considering, as if he weren't sure what Harry wanted to know or why.

"I just assumed since he taught at Hogwarts...." Never make assumptions with Snape, Harry had learned that in school and by the look on Snape's face, he should never have forgotten it.

"Rather than making asinine assumptions, why don't you save us both the trouble and ask whatever it is you wish to know." Despite the ire of the words, Snape seemed almost, but not quite amused.

Harry grinned back. "Will you answer my questions?"

"That would depend upon what you want to know, wouldn't it?"

"I want to know about you. Is that so hard to understand?"

"Quite frankly, yes. I can't imagine why you would." Snape met his eyes seriously and there was a grimness there that surprised him.

"Do you like being the Headmaster?" Harry groaned inwardly, wishing the floor would open up and eat him alive. That was about as insipid a question as he could have asked. Snape looked up from his dinner, clearly surprised. "You sound like an interview. Am I up for a position?"

Some petty part of Harry wanted to snap that he wouldn't hire Snape for anything, but he managed not to. "Not that I'm aware of. You said that I could ask you--"

"Yes. I do like being Headmaster." That he answered in a civil tone was a surprise, but the look in his eyes when he did was more so.

"You didn't think you would like it, did you?" Because that was not the first thing Harry would have thought he'd enjoy.

"I thought I would hate it."

"Yet you agreed to take it."

"As I said, the hat gave me little choice. I accepted because I thought I could do it, not because I thought I would like it." That kind of altruism was not what he'd come to associate with Snape. It wasn't Slytherin.

"From everything I've heard, you've done an admirable job of it."

"Time will tell." Snape looked back down at his plate and picked up his fork.

The silence stretched out and then taut. Nothing more to say, Harry guessed. With a dissatisfied sigh, he dug into this dinner, but even with his stomach tied into little knots, the food was quite good.

* * *

"All right, dinner is now officially over," Harry said, putting his tiny espresso cup down on its saucer. "What prompted you to ask me out in the first place?"

Also setting his cup down, Snape met his eyes and there was ever so slight a softening around his eyes. "You don't let go of a topic, do you?"

Harry smirked at that. "Not usually, no."

"All right, because you are so impatient I shall tell you. I believe I'm correct in assuming your interest in--"

"Yes, I'm interested." Let me count the ways, Harry thought, surprised that Snape felt he had to wait to ask about that, but delighted he was willing to give the idea any consideration. Since his conversation with Hermione that afternoon, he'd allowed himself to admit how much he did want Snape.

"Very good." Snape looked pleased, excited even. His expression softened even more. "I had hoped you were."

"I have been for some time, as a matter of fact." Harry's heart was pounding. He couldn't believe Snape was going to allow this to happen.

"I rather thought that, but I was unsure how to approach you about it." Snape folded his hands on the table and regarded him seriously, perhaps even nervously.

Excitement mounted in Harry, and he wondered what Snape was thinking. "I guess you haven't had that much experience with this sort of thing."

"You're correct in that." Snape sighed and glanced down at his folded hands. "I've only been Headmaster for two years."

A prickle of surprise went through Harry and he cocked his head to look at Snape. That last sentence was a non sequitur. And Snape didn't seem to realize it. "May I ask why that's relevant?"

Snape looked at him, eyes sharpening. "I've never offered anyone a job before."

"A job?" That made no sense to Harry. How had they gone from interested to a job? He ran the conversation back in his mind. Oh. That was how. Bloody Hell. His heart started to thud painfully against his rib cage.

"Yes. You just said you'd be interested in the Defense Against the Dark Arts position," Snape said in a perfectly reasonable and professional tone.

"Oh." His face heated with humiliation. From the way Snape was looking at him, he had twigged to the fact they weren't having the same conversation.

Tilting his head in question, Snape met his eyes. "What exactly did you think I was talking about?"

"Something else." Appallingly, his voice cracked. "Um...." He took a deep breath, trying to work out why this was bothering him so much. It made no sense to be this hurt over something so small. Then like the sun coming out after a rainstorm, the answer was there before him. And oh God, Hermione and Ron had been right. How long could he have missed it? "Um...."

Snape's hand clamped down on his. "What did you expect? It's a bit too soon for a marriage proposal, don't you think?" The usual sneer was absent, indeed, he seemed to be trying to force amusement into the words.

"A boy can hope," Harry said trying for sarcastic, but it came out pathetic. Just like he was. He shook off Snape's hand and his first thought was to cut and run. That, of course, would not be acceptable.

So he looked at Snape, waiting to hear what an idiot he'd been. But all Snape did was gaze back at him, looking confused.

"Why don't we get the check and get out of here?" Harry suggested. He signaled the waiter and waited in strained silence while Snape paid the check.

They made it to the alley before Snape said anything. When he did, his voice was low and angry. "Potter. What the hell is going on with you?"

"I'm having a nervous breakdown, can't you tell?" It should have been amusing, but of course, it came out stilted. He was having no luck with anything tonight. Perhaps he should just keep his mouth closed.

Snape looked more uncomfortable. "This isn't like you. What's wrong?"

Harry wondered if he weren't cracking up for real. "You're quite right, this isn't like me at all. I apologize, again. Not much of a professional, am I?"

"Not much of one, no."

"Let me get you home, and then you can be quit of me." Harry put a hand on Snape's arm, preparing to Apparate them both back to Hogwarts.

"Wait." Snape slid his arm around Harry's shoulder. "I want an explanation before I go anywhere with you."

On the one hand, Harry thought, he could lie to Snape, and that might work to get him out of this, or on the other hand, he could tell him the truth and completely repulse him. "I'm in love with you."

"Bloody Hell," Snape said, sounding well and truly horrified.

Harry would have smiled at being right, except his heart was breaking. And really, all he wanted to do was be alone, to wallow in his misery, before he got on with his life. If he could, which now that he thought about it, didn't sound all that appealing. "Well, let me get you home."

"Potter, you are such a fool." Snape took a step closer, pushing him into the wall, leaning his full body weight against him. "Did it never occur to you why I might be offering you that position?"

Deliberately not leaning into Snape's body, no matter how much he might want to, no matter how good he felt, Harry shook his head. "I'm good at defense?"

"There is that, of course. However, there might also be more to it than that."

"More? I have no idea--"

"Of course you don't. How can someone as smart as you are be altogether so stupid?" Snape's tone hovered somewhere between disgust and exasperation. Par for the course when talking to him, actually.

"All right. Tell me why, then," Harry said with a sigh of resignation.

Snape pressed him harder against the wall, his groin pressing into Harry's hip. "You would be at Hogwarts."

"Yes?" Harry gulped in a breath. Snape felt wonderful against him and he wanted to slide his hands under Snape's clothes and touch him.

"Near me," Snape growled, his voice low and sexy and it wreaked havoc on every nerve in Harry's body.

"Working for you?" It was getting harder to concentrate with Snape's body so intimately pressed to his. And yes, he could feel what was against his hip, but he knew those kinds of things happened to men in complicated situations. He supposed that Snape wasn't all that different.

"Are you so blind that you can't see the obvious?" Snape deliberately thrust into his hip again.

Harry groaned, valiantly resisting the urge to put his hands on Snape's arse. This wasn't fair. "What are you--" He never got the rest of the words out as Snape's mouth and then Snape's tongue silenced him, rather efficiently.

It took Harry's mind a second or two to switch gears, but he thought he finally got it. After that, he kissed back whole-heartedly and enthusiastically, reveling in the taste of Snape mouth. He moaned against Snape's lips as his tongue darted in and out Harry's mouth.

Harry's mind started to melt down from the sheer intensity of the kiss. He stroked his hands down Snape's back, onto his arse, squeezing gently, enjoying the firmness. Snape felt amazing under his hands, and Harry wanted to go on touching him forever. He could get --

"Very nice," An eerily familiar voice sneered.

Their heads snapped up, narrowly missing each other.

Draco Malfoy stood in the alley next to them with hatred in his eyes and a Muggle pistol in his hand. Despite the fact he was dressed well for a Muggle, it was quite obvious that the years had not been kind to him. His once silvery blonde hair had darkened to nearly brown. His face was lined, and he had not aged well.

A controlled panic slid into Harry's gut, and his training took over. "How did you find us?"

"It was almost too easy." Draco laughed, a mean-spirited sound very much reminiscent of the time when Harry knew him in school. His eyes were cold and flat with hatred.

"Draco," Snape said, trying to step around Harry and no doubt focus attention on himself. "Why don't we talk about this?"

"Oh, no. There is nothing to talk about. It gives me great pleasure to know that I'm going to kill you both just as you're finding out you're in love." Malfoy's expression was as repulsive as his laugh. He would enjoy hurting them, of that Harry had no doubt.

"I thought you were dead." Harry judged the distance between them at about ten feet. Good enough, he decided. Stepping around Snape, he moved so that he was in front. Snape's hand was on his hip, trying to edge him back, but he ignored it. Protecting Snape was his only concern.

"Not dead. Not quite, anyway," Malfoy said, his once cultured voice harsh. His eyes had a disturbing gleam to them. "Very shortly, Snape here is going to wish I were."

"Oh, don't worry about it Malfoy. I wish you were dead, too." Harry tired to edge further into the open, away from Snape. The look in Malfoy's eyes said that negotiation was not going to work. With dreadful certainty, Harry knew the best he could do was draw fire away from Snape.

"I'm going to kill you. Right now seems like quite a good time, in fact." Malfoy raised the gun.

Quickly, Harry slid his wand into his hand. "Accio Gun."

As it left Malfoy's hands, Harry heard it fire. The bullet and the gun came towards him, the bullet moving much faster. It slammed into him and knocked him back.

Fuck that hurts, Harry thought. Taking a deep breath, he tried to stay on his feet. His overriding concern was to protect Snape from Malfoy, to keep him safe. Beside him, Snape was trying to hold him up instead of reaching for his wand, as he should be doing.

Malfoy had his wand out, and even through his graying vision, Harry could tell he was going to cast a killing curse on both of them. With his last bit of strength, Harry called out, "Expelliarmus!"

Draco went flying backward, his wand skidding away from him in the other direction.

Snape cast, "Petrificus Totalus," when Draco hit the ground.

As his vision started to fade out, he saw Ron and Hermione Apparate into the alley, and he had a second to wonder how they had known where to come. He supposed that it didn't matter.

"You're safe now," Harry whispered to a horrified looking Snape. Then he passed out.

* * *

The chair was uncomfortable, but Snape sat up straight, trying to control his trembling. As galling as it was to admit, even to himself, he was frightened. And he resented it bitterly.

The small, ugly waiting room at St. Mungo's was not where he'd planned to spend his evening. Waiting to hear news on Harry's condition was not what he wanted to be doing.

Where were the healers anyway? It should not be taking this long. Unless....

Merlin, what if Harry didn't make it? Snape's breath caught in his throat. That wasn't a possibility that he could consider. Harry would be fine. He had to be. Snape would accept nothing less.

If only he could truly believe that, then he could leave with a clear conscience. He was not fit to be around these people, not fit company for anyone.

This was his own fault. Had he not become so complacent in his life, so confident that he had earned a right to peace, he would never have let his guard down. If he had been smart, he would have looked into the situation on his own and not allowed the Board to hire Harry at all. He was a fool. A dangerous fool. His stupidity had led both Harry and him to this end.

He drew in another breath, too sharply. Weasley looked up at him, his eyes full of sympathy. That one saw too much. Snape had no idea how to erase his knowledge. Half-heartedly Snape scowled at him. At least Weasley had the grace to look away, and go back to his quiet conversation with Granger.

A noise at the edge of the room had him, and Granger and Weasley, on their feet. The healer's face was unsmiling, but not completely grim. Snape felt a tendril of hope slither into his gut.

"Mr. Potter?" Snape demanded, his heart pounding so hard he could barely form the words. "How is he?"

"He's sleeping now." The healer sounded exhausted. "We had some trouble getting the bleeding stopped." She raised her hand to forestall questions. "He's fine now. He's a strong man and should be almost as good as new by the morning."

"Define almost." Snape knew how he sounded, and when the healer looked at him, he met the witch's eyes with a deadly glare.

There was little satisfaction in the widening of her eyes or the flash of fear that followed before she could blank her expression. "He'll be tired for a few days. I'd say he should limit his activities until he has his energy back."

"Can we see him?" Granger asked before Snape could say anything else.

With a wary glance at Snape, the healer shook her head. "Not now. I hope he'll sleep through the night."

"There was no spell on the weapon, correct?" Weasley asked and waited for the healer to nod. "Then, why should it have been so hard to stop the bleeding?"

"Muggle induced wounds are sometimes tricky to heal. The bullet did a lot of damage that had to be healed specifically. You should all go home and get some sleep. He'll be able to leave in the morning," the healer said.

Palpable relief washing through him, Snape could think of nothing else to say. After the healer left the room, he turned to go. He had no interest in speaking to Weasley or Granger, though they both looked as if they wanted to say something to him. However, hearing a list of his crimes was not on the agenda for tonight.

Weasley put a hand on his arm. "Are you leaving?"

He looked at Weasley and then down at his hand. "I have work that requires doing. I'll thank you to unhand me."

Never one to take a hint when one was given, Weasley did not let go of his arm. "You're not going to just leave him here, are you?"

Snape had no energy or patience left to deal with him. "I most certainly am going to leave. He has you and Ms. Granger to take care of him. He does not need me." As painful as it was, truer words had never come out of his mouth.

That Harry would be much better off without him was not even a question. It would be difficult to bear, especially after they had almost.... Snape took a breath and let it out slowly, letting the thought of what might have been go with reluctance. It was not his future. Not his right. Harry deserved better than that.

With one final glare at Weasley and Granger, he pulled away. He stalked down the corridor, telling himself that the pain in his chest wasn't fatal, even if it felt that way. The walk out of hospital was endless, rather like the thought of the rest of his life without Harry in it.

As soon as he was outside, he Apparated back to Hogwarts. It would be better to be in a place where the memories were not so crowding.

* * *

Snape's chest was still aching as he rode the stairs to his office. Even as exhausted as he was, he knew it would be ridiculous to try and sleep. He moved restlessly around, putting things away. Settling into the chair by the fire, Snape picked up Marcus' latest letter and opened it.

He gave it his full concentration. As he made his way through it, he accio'd a quill and parchment, taking notes. By the end of the draft, he had several questions. Was it too late to call Marcus? It was four o'clock here, which made it about 10:00 pm or so in the States. Not too late.

While most floo's were used for travel and communications locally, Hogwarts floo could be used for international communications. Standing beside the fire, Snape tossed in the special powder and waited for it to flash green before he stuck his head into it.

"Marcus?" he called, hoping that he would be home.

It took slightly longer than usual for Marcus to appear, but he came into view, tying his dressing gown around him. "Severus? What's wrong?" Marcus' tone was gratifyingly concerned.

"Nothing is wrong. I had several questions on the information you sent me yesterday."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "And instead of owling them back to me, you make a long-distance floo call? I ask again, what's wrong?"

"Hogwarts had the ability to call internationally. I don't see why I shouldn't use it." He was perfectly prepared to reimburse the school for the cost should anyone care to mention it to him.

"Of course. However, it seems like a waste to use it just to talk about something that could easily be done by owl."

"Is this a bad time?" Snape asked. He didn't usually call Marcus this way, but that didn't mean he couldn't. "I could call back later."

"No. But I've known you for years. --"

He couldn't possibly let Marcus finish that. "I'm not sure why you would bring that up. As I said, I have several questions about the direction of your research."

"I'm quite sure that you do. However, that isn't why you called, is it?"

Why was it that Marcus could make him feel like he was a child seemingly without even trying? "Actually, it was."

"It was the excuse. The reason had to do with what happened tonight."

How did he find out so quickly? "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"I take the Prophet Special Edition. Tonight's events came across within a couple of hours of it happening." Marcus met his eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"I'm assuming that if you're not there with him, then you have made another damn fool mistake in thinking--"

"Marcus. I don't wish to discuss him." He couldn't even say his name right now without his stomach twisting. "Why do you take the Special Edition?"

"Because you aren't very forthcoming with information and I'd like to know what's going on. I've thought about asking Mr. Potter to keep me updated."

"Dear Merlin, you wouldn't."

"Not yet, anyway. I know you care for him." Marcus didn't even phrase it as a question. The blighter.

Snape was not going to answer it, either. "It does not matter. I can't do this. I won't do this."

Marcus shook his head, his expression even more exasperated. "Do you want me to talk you into it?"

"You mean nag me until I get angry. Please don't."

"All right, what would you like me to do?"

"I'd like to discuss the information that you sent me."

Marcus looked closely at him and then nodded. Gratefully, Snape asked his questions and they discussed it for a while. It finally dawned on Snape that Marcus should have been dressed when he called. "Why aren't you dressed?"

"I was in bed."

"So early? Are you ill?"

"There are other reasons to be in bed aside from that." And clearly he was refraining from mentioning what those reasons might be.

Snape fought a blush. "You might have said you were busy."

"We were finished." Marcus smiled. "Besides she's used to it."

Snape waited.

"Zelda came back."

"Congratulations. Is she going to marry you?" Snape was pleased. At least someone's life was going well.

"She said she might." Marcus smiled at him. "If she does, will you come out and stand as my best man again?"

"I did the last four times, didn't I? I suppose I'll do it again. You'll need to give me a bit of warning this time." Not that Snape wouldn't move heaven and earth to get there as he'd done every other time. He couldn't admit it, but it pleased him beyond words that Marcus would ask.

"Someday, I hope to do the same for you."

It wasn't an assumption on Marcus' part. If ever he found someone to marry him, Snape knew there was no one else in the world he'd ask. "Since it's not likely to happen, I would not pack your bags yet."

"You never know what might happen with H--"

"Marcus. Please. I can't bear that now." Snape closed his eyes and then opened them, hoping Marcus would understand.

"I'm just saying that our young Mr. Potter does not strike me as the kind to give up easily."

Unfortunately, Snape knew that only too well. "It's not his choice to make in this matter."

"You're being foolish." Marcus shook his head.

"It wouldn't be the first time." Snape yawned. He felt like he could sleep now.

"Go to bed, Severus, "Marcus ordered.

"Good night." Snape ended the call.

* * *

Harry came to consciousness slowly, not wanting to wake at all. Someone was sitting next to him, holding his hand, but the hand was too big to belong to the person he wanted.

"Come on, Harry. Time to wake up." Yes, that was Ron's voice, coaxing him to do something he didn't want to do.

With reluctance and several second thoughts, Harry opened his eyes. Ron sat in the chair next to his bed. "Where's Severus? Was he hurt?"

Several emotions played across Ron's features, none of them good. "No. He wasn't injured. But he's not here right now."

Which meant that he'd left Harry alone after he'd been injured. Closing his eyes, Harry had to take a breath to relieve the tightness in his chest. When everything had gone wrong, he should have expected it. "Got any idea where he went?"

"Back to Hogwarts, I'm thinking. How are you feeling?" Ron released Harry's hand. "Let me get the Medi-witch."

Doing a quick inventory, Harry was surprised to find that he felt weak and drained. "What happened?"

"Medi-witch, first. Explanations second." Ron was out of the room before Harry could argue.

Ron and the Medi-witch were back in a moment. She ran her wand over him, and made noises that reminded Harry of Madam Pomfrey. Maybe they all sounded like that. Despite his chosen profession, once Voldemort was dead and gone, he'd spent surprisingly little time in the infirmary.

She declared him fit, and told him that if he didn't want to stay -- which he most certainly did not -- he would have to rest and recuperate for several days. Nodding to Harry's pile of clothes, she told Ron to help him dress.

"Do you remember taking out Malfoy right after he shot you?" Ron asked, picking up his clothes.

Harry nodded. "Just as you and Hermione Apparated into the alley. How did you know?"

"We weren't sure. But I'm damned glad you told me where you were going with Snape." Ron let out a relieved sounding sigh.

"Why then?"

"They finally questioned Deveraux under Veritaserum."

"At that time of night?"

"He had to give consent. And he knew he couldn't hold out much longer. He hoped to give Malfoy enough time to kill you and get away. That was all he cared about."

Harry shrugged out of the hospital gown, tossing it to the bed. "He hated Snape that much?"

"Apparently he found Snape's betrayal of Voldemort unforgivable. He wasn't crazy about you either.'

"Yeah. I did guess that. Killing his lord didn't make me high on his Yuletide card list."

Ron snorted.

"So basically it was both of them planning this together?" Harry asked, taking off the hospital robe and tossing it on the bed.

"Apparently so." Ron handed Harry his pants and trousers.

"How did they meet?" Harry did up his trousers and looped the belt around his waist.

"Known each other since they were kids, it seems. After he became Deveraux, he got in touch with Malfoy."

"How? I mean, how did he find him?"

"When Malfoy changed his name, he took the Francis family name."

"And how did Malfoy find us?"

"He paid off someone in our office for information." Ron's tone told of his barely held back fury.

"Good God, who?" Harry asked, his hands tightening dangerously on the shirt he was holding.

"Brenda Pembroke --"

"Who also knew where we would be last night since I told you in front of her. Do we know why?" Harry forced himself to loosen his grip before he tore his shirt. He needed to wear it.

"Why she sold us out?" Ron looked every bit as betrayed as Harry felt about this. They treated their employees well.

Harry nodded.

"The usual reason. Money."

"I'm assuming she got a substantial sum of it. What did she need it for?" Harry knew there was nothing in her past to indicate she'd be a likely subject for that kind of pay-off.

"Greed." Ron looked disgusted.

Harry sighed. Nothing to be done about that. "Damn, we didn't catch a break in this case at all. Did we?"

"No. And Suzette was less than pleased with what happened. She hired Brenda," Ron said in the most casual way.

Harry wasn't stupid. "Is Pembroke even alive?"

"The exit interview was not pretty. She's alive, but I'm afraid that Suzette took a couple of chunks out of her hide with a few well placed hexes before the MLE took Pembroke away." Ron's laugh was not an attractive sound.

"Have I mentioned that I love your wife?" Harry started to lean down to pull on his socks, and a wave of dizziness washed over him.

"Several times." Ron put Harry's hand on his arm, and steadied him. "Sit." He pushed Harry to sit on the bed and knelt to tie his shoes for him.

"I'm not a child. I can do up my own shoes." Harry felt like an idiot as Ron did this for him. "So, where is Malfoy?"

Laughing, Ron smacked him on the knee, lightly. "Yeah, and you'll fall over doing it. I've got two kids. I am an expert with this. And we took him into the Ministry and they arrested him."

"Thanks. What's the rest of it?" Harry stood, shakily, putting a hand back on the bed for a moment.

"Malfoy was after Snape because--"

"He blamed Snape for the loss of his power and years of exile?"

"Right. It seems the spell Malfoy senior used wasn't as powerful as it should have been. Over the past few years, Draco's power has been slowly returning."

"How did Malfoy survive without any power or identification? He'd have to be doing something to have enough to live on.

Ron shrugged. "Working as a Muggle. And prospering, it would seem. He's got quite the set-up in London. They're still looking into exactly what he was doing. It doesn't look legal, but that's no surprise."

"No. No, surprise there." Nothing Malfoy did would surprise, Harry supposed. "How did he get into Hogwarts to plant the bomb and paint that sign?"

"He didn't. His house elf did. Seems as soon as his magic started to come back, his house elf found him. He'd been searching for Malfoy for years as he was heir to Malfoy Manor."

"Heir to the manor?" Harry laughed. "The Ministry made an orphanage out of Malfoy Manor."

Ron chuckled too. "I've always thought that Lucius and company must be turning over in their graves at the thought of all those _mudblood_ children in his former home."

"I've always thought that, too. As much as I hate the Ministry most days, that showed a wonderful sense of irony."

Ron nodded, grinning. "Yeah, you have to hand it to them with that judgment." "How did Malfoy get the elf into Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"That turned out to be the easy part. He showed up wearing a sock, and asked for a job. From what I understand, he kept to himself and was only at the school a few months. He did stay a week or two after the bombing and then disappeared."

"Dobby works for me, so there was no one left to know he'd once worked for the Malfoys," Harry mused.

Ron shook his head. "I'm not sure that would have mattered by then, anyway."

"You might be right." With his head starting to pound, Harry couldn't process much more information. "What about Knockturn Alley?"

"Happenstance. One of Malfoy's people was in Knockturn alley and saw Snape. Malfoy got there in time to take a couple of shots at him."

"Damn." Harry bit back a sigh. "What happened the night of the ball?"

"We're still not sure. We think that Deveraux slipped out into the gardens and threw the knife. Or it might have been the witch that was with him. It was enhanced to hit the target. The idiot questioning Deveraux didn't ask the right question, so we don't know exactly how he did it." He could understand Ron's frustration. Questioning a subject under Veritaserum could be tricky, and the Ministry's training wasn't always as thorough as it should be.

Harry put a hand to his head and tried to shake off the fuzziness. "I'm trying to process all of this."

"Let us take care of things for the moment. You should to go home and go to bed." Ron took something out of his pocket and handed it to Harry.

He felt the familiar pull behind his navel and when he looked up again, he was standing in his sitting room. Ron stood beside him.

"I'm just going to go up and go to bed." Harry swayed as he took a step. The portkey had added to his dizziness.

Ron put a hand on his arm. "Let me give you a hand."

"Ron...." Harry tried to put a bit of menace in his tone, but could hear he'd failed without looking at the grin he knew was on Ron's face. "I'm a big boy."

"Big boy or not, I'm going to make sure you get to bed." Ron tightened his grip and steered him towards the stairs. "Where's Dobby."

"Dobby is here, sir." Dobby had showed up on Harry's doorstep as soon as he'd bought his own house. And had simply refused to take no for an answer. "What is you needing?"

"Some soup for Harry, please." Ron smiled down at the elf. "Up in his room."

"Soup is coming." Dobby snapped his fingers and was gone.

Once in his room, Harry plucked at his robe and shirt and grimaced. "First I'll have a bath. I'm still sticky from everything."

"Don't drown." Ron followed him to the bathroom door, his expression concerned. "I'll be right outside."

Harry bit back a sigh of frustration. He knew what Ron was doing, and he did appreciate it, but it had been a difficult evening and he'd rather be alone.

He adjusted the taps and stripped off his clothes while the tub was filling. As he sank into the warm water, he groaned, feeling all of his muscles start to loosen up. He let himself drift for a while, not thinking about anything.

"Harry?" Ron's voice startled him out of his reverie.

"Out in a second." Harry hoisted himself out of the bath, and found his dressing gown, some, if not all, of the dizziness gone. He did feel better.

The soup was waiting for him on the table by the fire. He sat down heavily, ignoring Ron for the moment and took a spoonful. It was delicious. He ate most of it.

When he was finished, he was too tired to raise his head. Stumbling as he rose from his chair, Ron was at his side, saying nothing, but easing the dressing gown from him and helping him into bed.

"Thanks, Ron. I appreciate it." Harry laid his head back on the pillows. "You should be getting home."

"I'll wait until you fall asleep. Been a tough night for you." Ron's tone said he was in full blown protective mode.

He hadn't seen Ron this solicitous since they were in school. Not that he didn't appreciate it, but enough was enough. "Ron, thanks. But I'm a grown up now."

As he pulled the bedding up, Ron laughed. "I did notice that. Go to sleep."

Closing his eyes, Harry felt tense and keyed up, completely unable to relax. After a count of sixty, he opened his eyes again to find Ron watching him. "What?" Harry asked, probably more antagonistically than he needed to.

"Just waiting for you to settle down." Ron's tone was mild and comforting. No doubt it was the same tone he used with his own kids.

With a sigh, Harry sat up. The world spun for a second and he felt slightly nauseated, thankfully, it passed quickly. "Why don't you go on, now? I'm fine. Really."

Clearly seeing through him, Ron shook his head. "I don't want you up all night, worrying about things."

"First off, it's morning. Second, I never sleep well, anyway. You know that." Harry didn't want to keep Ron here. The assignment had taken enough time away from his family, Harry wasn't going to take any more of it.

As Harry opened his mouth to tell him to leave, Ron put his hand over his mouth, effectively silencing him.

"Stow it. Suzette and the kids will be fine without me for a few more hours." He sounded so concerned that Harry didn't want to order him out.

"All right. Tell me what else happened. After." This was the part that Harry leased wanted to hear. The Snape part.

"You mean with Snape?" Ron asked, looking as if this were not a conversation he wanted to have, either.

Harry's stomach muscles knotted together. He felt too open and exposed, but he nodded. "Yes. Tell me about Severus."

"Not much to tell. You were bleeding pretty badly and Snape insisted on taking you to St. Mungo's himself. Hermione and I took Malfoy in." Ron face went slightly pale then. "It took a bit of time to get you patched up and into bed. Snape sat in the waiting room with us, silent as stone. But, Harry, he was shaking. I've seen him in grim situations, but I've never seen him that scared."

Harry closed his eyes. A shudder passed through him as he thought about Snape's reaction. He wouldn't deal with this, Harry knew it. "God, he's not going to forgive me, is he? He's going to use this as an excuse. I know he is."

"I don't know. When the healer came out and said you were fine, he left. Hermione and I think...." Ron looked away.

"Think what?" Harry had a bad feeling he knew what Ron was going to say. And he forced himself to say it first. "That he can't handle it? That caring for me is going to be too much trouble?"

Ron still wouldn't meet his eyes. "I'm sorry. I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I think it hit him pretty hard. I believe he cares for you and I think it scares him half to death. If you want him, you're going to have to go after him and drag him back, kicking and screaming."

"What a lovely image that is." Harry snorted, but knew the truth in those words when he'd heard them. If he wanted Snape -- and at this point he knew there was no denying that -- then there would be no choice.

"For all that he seems to have mellowed a bit over time, he's still the same man he was. A cat can't change its stripes, even if they do fade."

Snape had mellowed enough to give Harry a bit of hope. Foolish, foolish hope. Harry's shoulders slumped and he had to close his eyes for a moment to relive the pressure on them. "Why am I always so bloody...." Harry couldn't finish it. And from Ron's look, he didn't have to.

"I don't know. I keep hoping it will work out for you and it never seems to, does it." Ron pulled him into his arms for a hard hug and then set him back against his pillows.

With his chest tight and his eyes stinging, Harry shook his head. "Go home, Ron. I just want to be alone for a while."

Something in his voice must have finally got Ron's attention because he nodded and pushed off the bed. "Okay. Firecall me if you need anything. I'll be in the office later this afternoon. I'll come by tonight to make sure you're okay."

It would be useless to tell him not to, so Harry gave in without a fight. "I'll see you later, then."

Ron left him with a wave.

* * *

Part 7

Over the next several hours, Harry dozed on and off, but he couldn't relax enough to actually sleep. Not with the issue of Snape hanging over his head. He needed a resolution, one way or another.

Throwing off the covers, Harry got out of bed and stalked to his cupboard to find something to put on. He was going in with the knowledge that Snape was going to be as difficult and cantankerous as possible. While Harry wasn't looking forward to the confrontation, it would give them both ample opportunity to lay their cards out.

He Apparated to Hogwarts. Given his mood, it was a good thing he encountered no one on his trek up to the castle. He was sure he would have hexed anyone who got in his way. Much as Snape had done, Harry simply glared at the Gargoyle and it moved aside without him uttering a word.

The office door opened under his touch and Snape looked up from his desk as he walked in. Peripherally, Harry was aware that the office had been refurbished. The magical wall had been replaced with a real one. Harry was riveted on Snape. The look in his eyes said that Ron had been right: Snape was afraid.

"Mr. Potter. Shouldn't you be in St. Mungo's or at least in bed?" Snape's tone was admonishing, as if he were addressing a recalcitrant student, rather than a grown man. As he was sure it was meant to do, it irritated the hell out of Harry. However, instead of letting it get the better of his temper, Harry swallowed it back, giving Snape a grim look.

"I felt it was important to update you on the situation with the case." Harry's tone was deliberately as professional as he could muster, daring Snape to make anything of it.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Couldn't one of your minions have done it just as well and with a firecall no less?"

Straightening his spine, Harry gave him a cool smile. "I'm the boss and it's my responsibility."

"Fine. What happened?" Snape could not have sounded more bored or disinterested.

Harry refused to let it annoy him as he laid out the events at the ministry and what he and Ron had discussed.

When Harry had finished, Snape's face was pale. He took an audible breath and blanked his expression. "You may go now."

Harry blinked. He hadn't expected Snape to abound with gratitude or love, but he'd expected a bit of... something. "Excuse me?"

"You've dispatched your duty. And now you may leave with a clear conscience."

It wasn't often that someone could knock Harry off-balance, but Snape seemed to be able to do it with shocking regularity. Harry's annoyance came back ten-fold. "You think you can just dismiss me?"

Snape looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "The situation is what it is. Whining about it won't change it."

"What situation? Or did you mean leaving me at the hospital? Was that a message? Did you plan to come back at all?"

Snape looked taken aback for a moment, and then his mask fell into place. "No. I had no plans to return. Nor do I think I am accountable to you."

"I thought you cared about me." Damn. He hadn't meant to put it that way. Although he managed to keep his voice steady and hard, he could hear the pain come through his words. It would be too easy for Snape ridicule him for it.

As he watched, Snape's blank expression became a sneer. "Whatever gave you the idea I cared one way or another about you?" Snape asked, silkily, dangerous.

"Oh, I don't know. Kissing me might have been a hint." Harry heard a couple of the portraits in the background started to twitter. He pulled his wand, casting a silencing spell in an arc around the desk.

"Don't bother. You won't be here that long." The usual sneer was in place, and something else, something harder that Harry couldn't identify, but it did seem as if Snape were bracing himself.

Harry straightened up, gathering his courage around him. "Oh, yes, I think I'll be here until you give me an answer. I'm not letting you get away with this."

"There is no not letting me do something. You cannot force a feeling that isn't there."

The harsh words pierced through Harry like a knife in warm butter. He looked at Snape grimly, refusing to let the hit show. "Are you saying that you don't care about me? That all of the talk last night was a lie? That you offered me the Defense Against the Dark Arts job because I'd do so well at it, not to be near you?"

The morning light was harsh on Snape's face. His expression was cruel and his lips thinned into a line of anger. "The offer is rescinded. I've hired someone else for the position. Now, if you'll be so good as to remove yourself from my office."

Sucking in a breath, Harry stepped back, stunned enough that it took him a moment to recover his voice. "You're joking. You only offered it to me last night."

"I've found someone else, someone better suited to the position." Snape's eyes were unyielding, hard. "I want you to leave the premises right now and not come back."

He'd expected reluctance, a fight even, but not this, not a casual dismissal as if he had no significance, as if he meant nothing to Snape. Something inside Harry shriveled. "I don't understand."

"Then let me explain it to you and do try to pay attention." Snape sat up straighter, squaring his shoulders. "It was a mistake to offer you the position. I have rectified that mistake. Now, Mr. Potter, let me ask you, yet again, if you would be so good as to leave my office?"

Harry shook his head, trying to hear past the roaring in his ears. So close. He'd almost had it this time. It had slipped through his fingers like sand, and he didn't understand how or why, only that he'd been rejected, yet again. Already starting to mourn the loss, Harry wondered what it was about him that no one wanted him. He took another step back from the desk. "All right. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

Another breath and he looked up for a moment, blinking several times. He didn't cry. Ever. And he wasn't going to do it now. He wasn't. "Bastard."

"What was that, Mr. Potter? I couldn't hear you." Snape's tone was cruel, nearly joyfully so.

At least for the moment, anger replaced his pain as he turned back to face Snape. "You bastard. You really had me going. I believed you. I believed in you. Foolish Harry, taken in again. I should have known better."

Something flashed in Snape's eyes; something that was gone so fast that Harry couldn't quite interpret it. "Yes." Snape cleared his throat. "Yes. You should have known better. I am not what you're looking for. Not what you need."

Harry saw it again. This time he knew what it was. Knew that look. It was in his own eyes right now, except he'd never been very good at hiding his grief.

"What the hell are you playing at? Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?" Harry asked, afraid to move, afraid that he was reading this wrong, afraid that he was going to make a worse hash of things had he already had.

"I want nothing from you except your absence from my office. I think I've said that at least twice in the last five minutes." Snape's tone was hard. Listening closely, Harry knew there was more than just rejection in it.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part. Either way, he resolved to play this out to whatever bitter conclusion awaited him. "What if I won't? What will you do?"

Obviously, it wasn't the answer that Snape was expecting. He looked taken aback. "I could force you out."

"You could. But, I think you won't." Smiling with tentative relief, Harry stepped around the desk, and leaned on the edge on the same side that Snape was sitting on. "I'm betting you don't want me to leave."

"You are incorrect." Snape's eyes widened when Harry reached out to brush his hair away from his face. Instead of pulling away, as Harry still half-expected, Snape made an abortive movement, as if he meant to lean into the touch and then changed his mind at the last second.

"What are you afraid of? What do you think will happen?" Harry stroked the side of his face with the tips of his fingers, and this time, Snape did pull away.

"Potter...." Snape trailed off warningly. "Stop this. Now."

Looking at Snape again, closely this time, Harry could see that he was apprehensive, tense. He ran over the facts in his mind, thinking rationally for change. "You're afraid I'll be killed? More than that." He paused again, thinking about what Ron had said. "You're afraid that someone else from your past is going to hurt me."

"Where you get your delusions, I do not know. I want this to cease. Now." Snape's tone had lost its conviction and his face showed his fear. Perhaps it was only fear of Harry knowing his motivation. It was enough for Harry's ever-hopeful heart to soar, even as his practical mind tried to tamp it down.

Harry put his hand on Snape's cheek and turned his face up. "But it's not. Is it? You care about me. I know you do." He didn't know it, actually, but he hoped.

"No. I--" Snape closed his eyes, but didn't dislodge Harry's hand. "We can't do this."

"Yes. We can." Harry leaned forward, kissing him ever so gently on his lips. A shiver of pure delight slid languidly through him and he could feel Snape tremble with it as well. "We can and we will."

"So very sure of yourself, are you Harry? I wouldn't be, were I you." Snape pushed his chair back, dislodging Harry's hand and stood. But instead of moving away, he stepped forward, almost touching Harry.

"I'm not worried." Harry wished he were as confident as he sounded. "I think I understand now."

"No. No, you don't. I do not wish to see your life in danger. This cannot happen." As if to negate the words, Snape leaned down and kissed him. "My past will no doubt continue to come back to haunt me. I was a fool to ever think it wouldn't."

"You're never going to be completely free of your past, no. However, you can live your life anyway." Harry wanted to sound reassuring, but that wasn't easy when dealing with Snape. He was too likely to see it as a weakness or mockery.

"I will not have you subjected to the carnage of someone else deciding to do this again." Snape started to pull away, but Harry clamped his hands down and held both of Snape's arms.

"Do not make choices for me, Severus. I risk as _I_ choose. You're worth the risk." Harry moved his hands to Snape's hips and pulled him completely into his arms.

"I am not. I don't wish to be." But he looped his arms around Harry's neck and laid his forehead against Harry's hair.

"Too bad. It's my choice and I've made it." Harry's fingers trailed up Snape's back and pulled him closer until they were wrapped around each other.

He heard Snape sigh resignedly. "You've made a grave mistake, then. No good will come of this, I promise you that."

"Oh, I disagree. I think great good will come of it. You'll see."

Another sigh. This one heartfelt. "Do I have a choice?"

"Do you want one?" Harry could force many things with the strength of his personality, but this was something that had to come willingly.

Meeting his eyes, Snape seemed to look into his soul. "I--" He paused and cleared his throat. "No."

Breathing out in absolute relief, Harry grinned for all he was worth. His heart was dancing in joy, singing: mine, mine, Severus Snape is mine. "Then I won't give you one. We're going to do this and do it right. Completely above board and with public knowledge. We'll start with me buying you a fancy ring, making sure everyone knows who you belong to."

"Possessive brat, aren't you? We haven't been to bed yet, and already you've got us married." There were two faint spots of color on Snape's cheeks and he didn't actually sound upset about the prospect. Indeed, he seemed to be holding back a smile.

"Engaged," Harry corrected, happily. He'd ask Hermione to give him all the particulars of a wizard courtship. She'd love doing the research. "And you can expect that I'm going to be quite possessive."

"I refuse to wear anything gaudy. Try to remember that when you're picking out my ring." His indulgent tone and tender look said he'd wear anything that Harry bought him. "I'll see what I can find for you in the vaults. I'm sure there must be something appropriate."

"Good," Harry said against Snape's neck. His heart pounded with joy. He bit back the urge to ask for something really ostentatious because he wanted the whole world to know he belonged to Severus as well. "I'll set one of our PR people to writing the announcement for the Prophet. We'll have a formal wedding."

Pulling back just a little, Snape leaned down and kissed him. "If we get that far, yes."

"We'll get that far and further. I promise you that." Tilting his head up, he opened his mouth slightly and Snape took the hint, kissing him again.

Given their height disparities, kissing for any length of time in the position they were in wasn't comfortable. Harry pushed at Snape, standing and turning them, so that Snape sat on his desk and Harry stood between his spread legs.

His fingers went to the many buttons on Snape's robes as he leaned in to kiss Snape more thoroughly. Under his mouth, Snape's lips parted and he delved in, tasting the sweetness, luxuriating in it.

As they pulled apart, Snape chuckled. "Are you thinking of living out the fantasy you told Weasley about?"

It took a second for the reference to hit home. When it did, Harry's simmering arousal blazed hot and bright. God, he wanted that. Wanted to claim Snape as his own. A shiver of pure lust pulsed through him. He pulled his wand out of his robes and conjured a screen in front of the portraits.

"We don't need pointers," he said, leaning down to kiss Snape hard on his mouth.

"Wise decision." Snape put his hand on the back of his neck and drew him forward, kissing him again and again. "I'd never hear the end of it."

As they drew apart again, Harry pointed his wand at the top button on Snape's robe and said, "Revonecto." All of the buttons came undone.

"Very handy spell, Mr. Potter." Snape shrugged off his robes. Underneath his jacket, his waistcoat and shirt were also unbuttoned.

Harry slid his fingers under the material, suddenly desperate to touch warm flesh. "God, I want you." He pressed his mouth to Snape's neck, sucking softly as he hands slid over his chest, and around the back. Snape's skin was not smooth, and there were too many places where Harry could easily feel bone instead of muscle. He pushed the clothes off Snape's upper body in one go. Snape's shoulders were wide, but his collarbones were prominent. "You're too thin."

"Complaints already?" Snape started to pull away, a flash of something that looked like hurt crossing his face. "Perhaps this wasn't as good an idea as I thought."

Holding him still, Harry leaned down and kissed along his sternum. "You didn't think this was a good idea to start with."

"I did not. And you will do little to convince me with insults." Snape said, sounding most irritated, but still leaning into his kisses.

"It's the truth, not an insult. You should eat better. I'll have to make certain that you do from now on."

Snape looked at him as if deciding what to make of the comment. While he hesitated, Harry ran a hand down his chest, his thumb rubbing slowly over one nipple. Snape made a little sound of appreciation that thrilled Harry to his bones.

"I told you I'm possessive." Harry moved his mouth to one side to gently worry the tender flesh with his teeth.

Snape let out a lusty moan, pressing up into his mouth. "I suppose you expect me to put up with that without complaint?" He made it sound like an odious task.

"Complain all you want, if it makes you feel better. Although, giving in gracefully would be your best choice." Harry would tell that he was, if not pleased, then certainly accepting of the situation. Since Harry was sure that he couldn't change his possessiveness that was just as well. Leaning in again, he kissed Snape tenderly.

"I'll give it due consideration," Snape murmured against his lips.

"Do that." He stepped back and knelt at Snape's feet to remove his boots.

Above him, Snape chuckled, sliding his fingers into Harry's hair. "I never thought I'd see you like this."

Something about the way he said that annoyed Harry no end. "Does it seem so unlikely to you that I would want to undress my lover?" He pulled off one of Snape's boots and then the other.

"It was supposed to be a joke. I didn't mean --"

"I know what you meant." Harry rose to his feet, trying to shake off the slight hurt before it ruined his mood.

"What I didn't want was to offend you." Standing too, Snape put a hand on Harry's arm, rubbing little circles with his thumb. "And to be precise, you're not my lover quite yet."

"I will be shortly." Just saying it thrilled Harry. Soon, he told himself, reining in the urge to rush this. He pushed Snape's open trousers off his narrow hips.

Standing before him, Snape removed his own boxers almost defiantly. As if he expected to be rejected and was braced for it.

Rejection was the last thing on Harry's mind. A deep thrill went through him as he looked his fill. Snape wasn't beautiful by any means. His body bore more than its share of marks from the past, but Harry wanted him with a bone deep need he'd never felt for anyone before. He literally shook with the effort to contain it.

His hand trembling with need, he reached out and ran a finger along the scars on Snape's chest. Leaning forward, he pressed slow kisses to the longest one from were it started just below his shoulder to where it ended across the opposite ribs. Snape shuddered under his touch.

Straightening up, he pulled Snape into his arms, and ran a hand down his back to the swell of his arse before groping gently lower.

It didn't matter that his skin was too pale or that he was too skinny or that he had lank, oily hair. He was Snape and Harry wanted him. Desperately.

"Take off your clothes," Snape ordered. "Let me see what prize I've won."

"Prize?" Harry asked. No one had ever referred to him that way before and it delighted him that Snape would now.

"My prize." The reverence with which Snape said those words sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

"Now who is possessive?" Harry asked, blushing with pleasure. He folded his glasses and put them on a shelf behind him.

"I never said that I would not be."

Harry smiled at him and pulled his t-shirt over his head, trying for insouciant, and knowing he would fail. No way he could be nonchalant about this; it was too important to him.

He toed off his boots. When he'd got dressed this morning, he'd not bothered with socks. His jeans and pants came next and he stood before Snape, letting him get a good look, trying not to squirm while he did. There was more than simple admiration in Snape's look, there was hunger and desire and possession. Harry gloried in it, grinning.

"You are beautiful." The admiration in Snape's tone delighted Harry. "Accio lubricant." Snape held out his hand and a green glass jar appeared in it. Inclining his head slightly, he offered it to Harry. "Perhaps not quite as alpha as you thought."

The look in Snape's eyes said all that needed to be said about what he wanted. Elated, Harry nodded his understanding, taking the lubricant from his hand and casting a cushioning charm. He pushed Snape backward until he sat on the desk again.

"Much more comfortable," Snape said approvingly, sliding a hand onto the back of Harry's neck and pulling him closer. They kissed softly several times, exploring tastes and textures, hands caressing slowly.

His lips left Snape's mouth, journeying down his neck, licking and nipping the tender flesh along the way. With each nip or lick, Snape arched up into his mouth, moaning softly.

Pushing Snape flat, Harry applied his mouth to where it would do the most good. This wasn't going to be drawn out. He simply couldn't wait that long. Excitement pounding through every cell in his body, Harry opened the lubricant, and dipped his fingers in. It felt wonderfully slippery. Catching Snape's eyes and holding them, he slipped his fingers in.

Below him, Snape grunted, thrusting his hips up, trying to move with him, but Harry deliberately broke the rhythm. He climbed onto the desk, planting his knees on either side of Snape's hips and arranged Snape's long legs as comfortably as possible. Gripping Snape's hips, he pushed forward, sinking into him.

They both groaned.

The heat and constriction and sweet pressure were almost more than he could bear. Harry took several deep breaths, waiting for Snape's body to accept him. There was nothing in the world that he wanted more than to plunge in and take his pleasure. But pleasure taken without being given in return was hollow, and he'd never do that to a lover, no matter how base his instincts might be.

Gritting his teeth and trying to think about anything other than how marvelous this felt, Harry pulled nearly all the way out and then pushed back in, angling each thrust until Snape's breath caught and held.

"Harder," Snape grunted, pushing into Harry's thrust.

Harry shifted, holding Snape's hips. He wrapped his oily fingers around Snape's thickness, moving fast and hard.

"Yes!" Snape cried out, writhing frantically beneath him.

Sweat dripped off Harry and onto the desk as he pounded into Snape. It wasn't going to be enough. It would never be enough. He moved faster, harder, trying to give as he took and took and took.

It built and then broke, the tension, the rhythm, the moment. Harry cried out when the pleasure crested over him and he went down into it, giving himself over completely, glorying in the bliss between them.

"Don't you dare fall asleep on me," Snape said in an ominous tone. "I'm most uncomfortable right now."

Harry stirred. He knew he had to move, but he was fairly sure he didn't have enough energy to do so. "Tired."

"I don't care how tired you are. You will not fall asleep."

That voice demanded obedience, and Harry supposed he'd better listen. It was Snape's Headmaster voice. "'kay." With a tremendous effort, he pushed himself up on his hands and disengaged their bodies, sliding off the desk as carefully as he could.

Snape groaned, still bent double on the desk. Harry helped him straighten his legs. "Are you okay?" Harry asked, rubbing along one thigh.

"Fine. I'm quite fine." Snape sat up, and winced.

Harry stepped close to Snape, moving the tousled, sweaty hair back from his face, and leaned up to kiss him. With a sigh of contentment, he laid his head against Snape's chest. "Good. I'm dead tired. I need to sleep."

"I assume you mean to take your nap in my bed." Snape didn't sound like he minded the intrusion.

Harry wasn't sure how they managed to get from the outer office to the bedroom, but somehow Snape maneuvered them both there, cleaning them up along the way, too.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, Harry fell asleep.

* * *

For a time, Snape drifted, holding Harry close to him, wondering how exactly they had come to this pass, despite his best efforts that they would not. He obviously wasn't the wizard he'd once been, but he supposed that wasn't such a bad thing. Whatever he was, whatever he'd done, somewhere, somehow he must have pleased someone because this should never have been his. He kissed the top of Harry's head. Feeling ridiculously sentimental, he was glad Harry was sound asleep and would never know of his lapse. He couldn't live with the shame.

He eased out of bed, and found his dressing gown. There was too much to do before school started to lie about all afternoon. With a sigh, he went into his office and glanced at the screen covering the wall of portraits, wondering if he should take it down. Most of the portraits would be sleeping. He left it where it was.

As he sat down in his chair, an ache raced up his spine and he couldn't hold back a satisfied smile. Harry had been every bit as lovely as he'd expected.

Dismissing the cushioning charm and casting one to clean up the desk, he picked up the curriculum he'd been working on and started to read it.

Sometime later he was vaguely aware of Harry moving around, but he wanted to finish what he was reading before he acknowledged it. When warm lips trailed across the back of his neck, startling him, he jumped, hitting Harry's head with his own. They both laughed nervously.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you not to sneak up on an ex-Death Eater?" Standing, Snape reached for his wand and touched it to the bruise forming on Harry's forehead.

"I'm sure that was in the manual somewhere." Harry gave Snape an aggrieved look. "I woke up and you were gone."

"As much as I might like to, I cannot laze about all day. I have work to do. You, on the other hand, should be resting." He reached down and moved the messy fringe off Harry's face, kissing him softly.

"I actually should go to work." He said it like he actually might attempt it.

Snape shook his head, giving Harry a stern look. "I think not. If you'll remember, you just got out of hospital."

"I'm fine...." Harry yawned. "All right, maybe not. I do need to call Ron. He is supposed to stop by on his way home tonight and make sure I'm okay."

The relationship between the three of them had always been a puzzle to Snape. "You're still quite close to both of them, aren't you?"

"I thought that was obvious. Why would you think otherwise?"

He sat down in his chair and regarded Harry seriously. "Tell me why Weasley was your best fuck ever?"

"You're hardly in a position to be asking that question." Harry glared at him, but there wasn't much heat in the look. He seemed more exasperated than angry. "You were eavesdropping. Be content that I don't hex you for it."

Snape put an ever so slight note of pleading in his tone. "I'd like to know how you came to sleep with the decidedly straight Ronald Weasley."

"You don't play fair, do you?" Harry moved several stacks of papers out of the way, and settled on the desk. "It was only the once."

Snape gave a thought to complaining about Harry's usurping of his desk, but decided to pick his battles. The idea of Harry in bed with Weasley needed an explanation and he was at a loss as to how to force the issue. "Be that as it may, there is a story there. Will you not tell it to me?"

The look Harry gave him was incredulous, as if he could not understand why Snape would care. "Why? I mean, what possible difference can it make?"

There were emotions he could admit to and other he could not. "I am simply curious. Either indulge me or tell me you won't. Do not continue to ask me why I wish to know."

With a smirk that said he knew what Snape was feeling, Harry folded his arms over his chest. "It was seventh year, right before the final battle, Hermione, Ron and I were --"

"The three of you?" He hadn't expected Granger in this but, he supposed, considering everything that he should have done.

"Yes. Now let me tell this," Harry admonished, looking more pleased than annoyed. "We were in her private room, ostensibly studying. I asked her, if she died tomorrow, which if you remember, was more likely than not, what would she regret the most?"

"She said?" Despite having asked, Snape was surprised at how much listening to Harry tell him about this irritated him.

"Are you going to let me tell this? She said, not getting to kiss me for real." He looked at Snape. "And then she asked me the same thing. And if she could be honest enough to tell me the truth, then I could be too."

He wondered if Harry were dragging this out as long as he could to drive him mad. It would be just like him. "And?"

"God, don't you ever stop asking questions? I told her I'd regret not ever making love with Ron." Harry sounded amused.

"And he?" Snape asked, already knowing the answer. How could it have been anything else?

"He wanted Hermione," Harry confirmed.

"Classic triangle."

"It was something each of us could give the other. I loved Hermione enough to make it work with a woman -- she's the only one ever. And Ron loved me enough to offer himself. I could have probably made it good for him, but I wasn't sure he'd want to live with that memory, so I let him have me."

"It's amazing you all remained friends after that." Snape tried to bite back the jealousy he felt. He'd always wanted to have someone who would stand by him when he'd been at school. Just one friend. But the closest he'd ever come was the two years that Marcus had taught at Hogwarts and as much as he loved Marcus and appreciated his support, it wasn't the same thing.

Harry gave him a strange look. "It cemented our friendship. We stood shoulder to shoulder the next morning with no regrets. And when it was done, we were close in a way I can't even begin to explain. We still are."

"And are you still in love with Weasley?" Snape was proud of himself that he managed to get the words out without choking on them. The idea that Weasley might hold some part of Harry that he couldn't touch burned like acid in his gut.

Surprise flashed on Harry's face as he reached out and took Snape's hand. "If he had been able to love me back then, I might have fallen completely for him, but it wasn't in him. So no, I'm not in love with him. Besides there's only one person I care about now."

"You're not going to get sentimental on me, are you?" He sounded horrified, even to himself, as well he should. The idea was horrifying.

With a laugh, Harry leaned forward and kissed him deeply. "I'm going to be wretchedly sentimental. You'll get used to it."

"Must I?" Snape supposed that if he had to, he could get used to just about anything to keep Harry around. He never admit that, of course. The brat had enough control over him as it was.

Harry smiled and looked as if he knew it anyway. "Let's take this someplace softer. Once on the desk was enough for me."

Snape stood and surprised himself by holding out his hand. "By all means, keep me distracted from my work."

"Speaking of work, were you serious about the Defense position being filled?" There was a hint of worry in Harry's tone.

Feeling wretched about what he'd said and more importantly how he said it, Snape looked down at Harry, touching his cheek in apology. "Partly."

His tentative smile fading, Harry stopped in the middle of the sitting room to look at him, but his face gave away his disappointment. "Oh? I'd hoped you were making that up."

"Bill Weasley owled me to say he might be interested, if the job were open. I hadn't actually owled him back. Do you want it?"

"I do. But I don't think I can do it full time, not this term, anyway. I'd need some time to work out the details with the firm. Ideally, I'd rather teach the older students, but..."

"You may be in luck. Bill said that he would like to keep his position with Gringotts part-time. He didn't say which classes he'd like to teach, I'm sure we can work out a schedule." Thinking that part-time might be better for everyone, Snape started back to his office to find Weasley's parchment.

"You are very easily distracted, aren't you. We'll need to work on that." Harry sounded quite amused as he caught hold of Snape's arm before he could take more than a step.

Chagrined, Snape looked at him for a moment. "Too right. We can discuss this later."

When they reached the bedroom, Harry guided him to his bed, and slowly removed his dressing gown, laying it across a chair. He eased Snape back until he was lying flat and he climbed in beside him. Harry took Snape's hand and kissed the palm, his tongue sliding out to lick across it. Snape shivered.

Harry moved his mouth downward, kissing the inside of Snape's wrist, drawing his tongue along the veins and then slowly upward towards the bend of his elbow. It felt amazing.

Snape had never thought of his hands or arms as particularly sensitive, but Harry's touch was sending little flashes of sensation along his skin. Not enough to be arousing in and of themselves, but adding fuel to an already simmering fire.

As Harry leaned over him, kissing his shoulder, Snape sighed, wrapping an arm around him to pull him closer. A kiss was bestowed upon his mouth with devotion, followed by a second.

Tenderly, Harry reached out and smoothed Snape's hair off his forehead, continuing to kiss him unhurriedly. His tongue coaxed Snape's mouth open and slid in to explore. Drawing back slowly, he opened his eyes and reached out to touch Snape's face.

Tension started to coil in Snape's belly, his hips canted against Harry's thigh and all of his instinct said to move faster. He wanted more, needed more.

"Now is for slow," Harry said, trailing a hand down his chest, and leaning into another kiss. "Yes?"

"Yes." Snape closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into the bed, letting the tension drain away, giving himself up to Harry's hands.

Lovely hands that caressed down his body, that pressed his knees apart, that fondled the insides of his thighs, that trailed away just short of the juncture between his legs and his groin. Snape groaned, opening his legs wider. It wasn't nearly enough.

Smiling at him, Harry's fingers continued to dance along his thigh, not stopping long enough to do more than to tease. "Patience is a virtue, Severus."

The look in Harry's eyes said Snape was in for a wait before being satisfied. His heartbeat picked up and he smiled back at Harry. "I am a patient man."

"Shall we test that?" Harry moved back a bit and kissed the inside of his knee, open-mouthed, tongue swirling against his skin.

Snape trembled as Harry continued his assault on sensitive flesh, and bit back a groan. Harry's lips tracked up along the flesh of his thigh, licking and nipping, sending ripples of sensation through his body. Snape wanted to pull away, to demand that Harry move faster, to order him on and beg him never to stop.

Spreading his legs even wider, Snape bent his knees and braced them on the bed. His hips arched up as Harry licked him over and over. The torment was excruciating, and divine and driving him mad. He needed more. Harry's hands on his hips held him, fingers digging into him. Snape moaned again as Harry's tongue moved further back, becoming more inquisitive, more demanding.

Snape lost track of exact movements after that, vaguely aware of what was going on around him as Harry's mouth and hands and lips reduced him to a state of bliss he'd never reached before.

When Harry finally sank into him a second time, the burn brilliant and hot, Snape eased back, allowing himself to sink into the pleasure of the moment: exquisite and breathtakingly bright.

Harry moved on him. Each stroke perfectly aimed, making him groan, making him sigh, making him burn, making him want to beg for more. The pleasure was hot, all encompassing, and intense. He couldn't think and after a few minutes, he didn't even try. No, all he could do was give himself up the bliss of each thrust, the light just beyond his eyes, the pleasure spiraling at the end of his perception.

"Harry, please," he begged as pitifully, needier than he'd ever remember being. "Please...."

"Yield to me," Harry whispered softly, hoarsely, in his ear.

The raw passion sent shivers of pure pleasure over Snape's whole body and into his mind. Snape surrendered, knowing now that Harry would hold him against the storm. "Oh, Merlin. Yes. Yes."

After that, there were no words that Snape could form, that he could think. The pleasure was so strong, so totally devastating that he could not even consider it before it swept over him, annihilating him completely. The ecstasy broke him and reformed him, once and finally saving him for all time. He cried out, no longer aware of anything in the universe, except Harry.

A moment or an hour later, he opened his eyes. His knees were pressed to his chest, and starting to cramp. He would have moved them, but Harry was still draped across him, his hands still clenched into Snape's hips.

Snape grunted and Harry pushed up on his arms to look down at him. "That was brilliant," Harry said with a smug smile, moving carefully away from him. Lying down on his back, Harry gathered him closer. "Very brilliant."

Still reeling from the intensity of the last few minutes, Snape allowed himself to be cuddled closer, but wasn't ready to say anything yet.

The silence must have gone on too long. Harry's arms tightened. "Are you all right, Severus?"

"I'm fine." It was true. Mostly. He slid an arm over Harry's stomach and nuzzled his neck. "I just want to lie still and..." To finish that was to say something he could not say without feeling like a fool.

"Luxuriate in the afterglow, perhaps?" Did Harry have to sound quite so amused about it?

"Perhaps." Snape kept his eyes closed. No matter how much Harry might wish to indulge in it, being sentimental was not in Snape's nature.

"Good enough." Harry put a hand on his jaw and moved his face over to kiss him. "Open your eyes."

Snape did as requested. "What?"

"Nothing. I just want to look at you when I kiss you."

Giving into the kiss, Snape opened his mouth to Harry's invading tongue. He wasn't going to comment on the sentimentality, but it gave him a warm feeling deep in his chest. "As you please," he said a few minutes later.

Harry yawned. "I need another nap. We can talk about whatever else before lunch."

"You do realize the morning is gone, it's mid-afternoon unless I miss my guess?" Snape stretched out a bit, working some of the kinks out of his back and then settled back. Harry smiled again. "Okay."

With only the barest thought to the stacks of papers and correspondence in his office, and lunch, Snape closed his eyes. He'd deal with that later. "You're right, a nap might serve us both well right now."

Harry sat up and retrieved the bedding from the bottom of the bed. Pulling it up and around them, he settled back beside Snape, putting his arms around him.

Contented, Snape kissed Harry's messy hair and let sleep take him.

* * *

Epilogue

Harry pushed open the door to his office, and stopped short. Snape sat in his chair with his boots up on the desk, looking far too comfortable.

"To what do I owe this honor?" Harry asked, advancing towards him. He went around his desk, and perched on the edge next to Snape's long legs. "I thought I wasn't going to see you until tomorrow." He leaned forward and ran his hand through Snape's long hair. "Not that I'm complaining, you understand."

While Snape leant into his touch, he didn't acknowledge it in any other way, nor did he smile. "I have the final draft of my paper for the conference next month. I thought you'd like to read it."

Harry wasn't fooled by the ploy. "You knew I couldn't wait, right?"

Folding his arms against his chest, Snape glared at him. "I thought you wanted to read it. Our research will be of great benefit to your werewolf friend."

"No. No. I do want to read it." He knew Remus would be thrilled that they had advanced as far as they had with the Wolfsbane potion.

"I have it for you." As Snape pointed at a stack of several inches of parchment on Harry's desk, the platinum and onyx ring Harry had bought him glittered on his left hand. As it always did when he saw the ring on Snape's finger, Harry's heart skipped a beat.

After giving a quick thought to his work schedule, Harry decided he could take the day off and read the paper. Although he'd never admit it to Snape, he'd have to look up about half the words and probably get Hermione to read it and explain it to him. "Do you have to go back to Hogwarts right away?"

"I should," Snape said with another huge sigh. "There are always so many things to do before the end of the term."

"There are a few things you could do here, too." Harry put a hand on Snape's chin, leaning forward to kiss him softly.

"This is something I don't have time for. I do not." Snape didn't pull away. Indeed, he leant in further, kissing Harry again.

"Then you should go, shouldn't you?" Harry said against Snape's mouth. Kissing Snape was too delicious a treat to ever be taken for granted.

"For just a few minutes." Snape stood, and leaned forward, pressing Harry back onto the desk, fingers moving with alacrity on the buttons of Harry's robe.

His robe, jacket and shirt open, Harry arched up as Snape licked down the center of his chest. God, he would never, ever, get enough of that mouth on his skin. Shivering violently as Snape's talented tongue moved over his belly, Harry closed his eyes and gave himself up to Snape's tender mercies.

"Harry--" Ron's voice cut through the haze of passion as he opened Harry's office door without knocking. "We need to--"

"Lock the door," Harry finished for him with a groan. Jumping back, Snape looked mortified and not sure what to do.

Pushing back his embarrassment, Harry stood, straightening his clothes. He knew there was little he could do to hide the fact his clothes were all open and he was aroused.

"What do you want, Weasley? Can't you see you're interrupting?" Snape growled at him.

Ron's face was bright red, rivaling his hair for color. "Merlin, I'm sorry. I never thought I'd have to worry about barging into your office."

"Ron. What did you want?"

"We have a staff meeting in about ten minutes. I wanted to go over a few things with you before then. But I can see you're busy." Ron held up a couple of scrolls and then smirked.

"Very busy," Snape said, still glaring.

"So I won't expect you at the meeting?" Ron continued to smirk as he backed out of the office.

"No, I guess not." Harry took a step towards Snape, but disappointingly, Snape took a step back.

"So, where were we?" Harry asked without any real hope of resumption.

Snape gave him a withering look. "No more of that, Potter. I am quite mortified by what just happened."

"Why? We're engaged, remember?" Harry held up his own hand as a visual aide. The emerald and silver ring Snape had given him had been in his family for generations. It never failed to thrill Harry to see it on his own finger.

"It's unseemly to be caught in such a situation." Snape didn't sound or look very embarrassed, but even now, Harry couldn't always tell.

He put a hand on Snape's arm, rubbing slowly. "Yeah, but you have to admit it was fun, too."

"I do not." Snape wasn't trying to contain his smile anymore and Harry relaxed.

He leant into Snape, raising his head for a kiss. "Yes, you do."

"Fine," Snape said grudgingly after the kiss ended. "I must go. I shall see you tomorrow evening."

Harry could wait, if he had to. Unfortunately, it looked like he did. He started to do up the buttons on his shirt. "All right. Tomorrow night, then."

Snape stalked to the fireplace and then stopped, looking back at him. "What is it that you do to me?"

"Hmm? What did I do?" Harry smiled. He knew that tone.

Instead of picking up the floo powder, Snape stood there with his hands on his hips. "I have a great deal to do."

Harry stepped up next to him, and waved his wand at the door. "I know. I'm keeping you from it, aren't I?"

Snape said nothing, raising his hands to unbutton Harry's shirt again. When he was done, his fingers moved in a slow circle around one of Harry's nipples. "Merlin, what you do to me," Snape said again, leaning down to lick the trail his fingers had tread.

Arching into the caress, Harry moaned, his fingers sinking into Snape's hair. For many long moments, they remained that way. Then, Harry took hold of Snape's arms, he eased him over to the sofa and then pressed him down onto it.

Before he lay down too, Harry raised his wand again, this time he opened all the buttons Snape was wearing. Snape sat up long enough to shrug out of his robe, jacket, shirt and undershirt, leaving his upper body bare. He dumped the lot on the floor and conveniently lifted his hips so that Harry could slide the rest of his clothes off.

Excitement ran through Harry as he slipped his own clothes off and lay down on top of Snape, wriggling a bit to find a comfortable position. Despite being not quite as skinny as he'd been, Snape was still more sharp bones than anything else.

Harry slid his hand into Snape's hair, and kissed him deeply, arousal humming on his nerves and through his body. "Christ, I love you."

"Your sentimentality never ceases to amaze me."

"Yeah. I know, you love me too."

"True as that may be, your capacity for emotionalism is quite alarming, " Snape said, arching his back and Harry's mouth made wet contact with his neck.

"Because I tell you that I love you? You know, some day you're going to have to say it back to me."

Snape put a hand on his face so that he would look at him. "You must know how I feel about you."

There should not have been the note of uncertainty that was still in Snape's eyes.

Harry kissed him softly. "I do know. But...I've never heard you say it."

"That doesn't make it any less true."

"So, you'll never say it?"

"No. I'll say it in my wedding vows." There was something reverent in the way Snape said that. Harry wondered what he'd missed this time.

Wizarding wedding vows weren't all that different from Muggle ones, except the joining including magic. "Is this some wizarding tradition I don't know about?"

Snape shook his head, and looked chagrined. "No. Just something I promised myself a long time ago."

It was all Harry could do not to laugh delightedly. Snape never stopped surprising him. "And you said _I_ was sentimental."

"Revoltingly so. But I do my best to put up with it." Snape's hand traveled down Harry's back, and then up again.

Harry shivered and leaned down to lick along Snape's chest. "Good of you."

"I thought so."

And then they didn't speak for a long while.

 _HOGWARTS HEADMASTER WED TO BOY WHO SAVED US ALL_

 _After a traditional year-long engagement, Hogwarts Headmaster, Severus Snape, 53, wed Harry Potter, 32, partner in Granger, Potter and Weasley, and part-time Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, in a formal ceremony at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The celebration was private, with only close family and friends attending._

\--finis

February 2004-July 2005


End file.
